


There's something in the air

by idratherhaveyoucursedornot



Series: TSITA Verse [1]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: ATST, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Badass Athena, Badass Belladona, Cameron is unhinged, Circus Royale - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm better at angst, Idiots in Love, Just me airing out my sass for reasons, Kieran x Regrets, Mild Language, POV Multiple, Pfft it's PH, Simp Kieran White, Simp! Kieran, Sir Richard Collis Doyle is the ultimate BAMF, So much angst, Who isn't unhinged hahahaha, fluff but eventually, people being confused in general just because, traumatic event recollection, will be updated as the chapters go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idratherhaveyoucursedornot/pseuds/idratherhaveyoucursedornot
Summary: Time has a habit of making everything come full circle and justice? Justice tends to fly away from closed fists.The story of an officer drowning too heavily in murderous vengeance to still be considered good, and an assassin struggling too hard to grip his humanity from the icy cold fingers of death to be simply cast-off as evil. Will Lauren and Kieran be able to handle the truths that they uncover, or will they succumb to the stifling guilt that seems to have taken up the air?Or will they find remnants of something else lingering in the winds of change?Season 1 compliant. Season 2 divergent.Characters and vision belonging toSophismandEphemerys. Castles from theiroriginal workmade into air by yours truly.Find the TSITA Spotify Playlisthere.Bimonthly updates!
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Series: TSITA Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026829
Comments: 30
Kudos: 170





	1. I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1 compliant. Season 2 divergent.
> 
> Characters and vision belonging to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en). Castles from their [original work](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621) made into air by yours truly.
> 
> Find the TSITA Spotify Playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0C7PbG4T9X0RfoOVG1TLhB?si=XBEmzJRvRcGwQpTZwHyVQQ).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late December, and the chance of a white Christmas. That’s how Kieran’s morning began. Well, that’s how it was supposed to be, before he fell on his face.

Late December, and the chance of a white Christmas. That’s how Kieran’s morning began. Well, that’s how it was supposed to be, before he fell on his face. It’s a good thing no one was around to see him be this embarrassing. When you haven’t been free of injuries for ten years, it becomes easy to ignore the weight of a brace on your ankle. And to think that the Hyacinth greeted his morning with his face on the floor. Truly mortifying.

Internally cringing at his use of his moniker, he got up checking on his ankle and face. Thankfully his ankle seems to have healed from slipping off the tree last night, and his face bears no injuries either. Places even a block near to the Grim Goblin are dangerous to infiltrate. Even for someone as overqualified in combat as him. It’s a good thing Lauren was keeping her distance. If she was there, they both would’ve got shot.

Lauren. Images of a bloody neck and bloody hands come unbidden to him. Does it matter if he hasn’t killed anyone in a month? Would he ever stop being inhuman? Would he ever stop bringing death? The regret he lives with, is his, just his to bear, and nobody else’s. The remorse he has to bury deep down, stopping it from slipping right from his heart down to everywhere around him, with the way he moves, holds that lead, and pins it down onto his sketches. Pages overflown with emotion, a storm of black and white, and all he can ever recall is the smell of the color red, bringing him dread. The blood on his hands will always stay there, wouldn’t it? There is no power in the world that could ever make him stop being a goddamn m–

The clock strikes six, and his trance is broken. He should start getting ready now. Maybe if he reaches the archives in time, he can get away from Lauren’s questions about last night. Brace removed, the bandages on the side of his ribs replaced anew, spectacles in hand, he strides to the door. Something shifts in the air.

With his hand on the handle, Kieran promptly stops, taking a deep breath, beginning to get out and yet he couldn’t. The room began to engulf him whole. Unable to breathe, he ran and it would have been a sprint had the door to his office been farther.

It takes everything in him to not break the door with the sheer force of his need, his need to see, to remember, to salvage. The door shuts from the weight of his back as he collapses against it.

‘It’s okay. I’m here. It’s still here. It’s still here.’

Head turned upward, hands bracing over his heart, eyes closed in pure reverence of the one thing he never wants to let go of, he finally found the strength to leave. With one last deep breath, and one last look into the hurricane of drawings, into the room, he closed the door, and left. As long as he could still feel the warmth from humanity, maybe there was hope for him. He gathered enough strength from the one and only lie he had been telling himself over and over again over the past seven years.

The walk to the station was the definition of arduous. It is truly a blessing that he didn’t break any bones and simply strained his ankle. If he had broken any bones last night, he wouldn’t have been able to walk, much less hide it, unlike a simple strain. Still too early to be arriving to work, the dark and cold enveloped him on his way, forcing his hands to form a rhythm of their own, as he rubbed his gloved appendages.

Crossing the bridge, the darkness started to retreat only slightly as he came closer to the precinct building. Arriving to the precinct doors filled him with an uneasy peace. Would he still be here if he could be anywhere? Sure, he liked the archiving work, but would he want to be anywhere near murder if he had the choice? Even if it was on the bright side of the scale? Is it even bright then?

Cutting short his pondering, a hushed voice, full of sport, filled his ears, 'Mr. White.'

Sergeant Ladell, stood next to him in all her glory and chaotic intent on her face. If Kieran wasn’t wholly indulged with keeping his wits, he might have screamed with how sneaky Ladell is. Alas, a career in being an assassin can be rather helpful sometimes. Without a shadow of a doubt or panic, Kieran composed himself, schooling his features into that of the meek archivist he is supposed to be playing.

Shuffling to the end of the door and opening it, he bowed lightly, as he wished, 'Good morning, my lady. After you.'

Taking the cue, Ladell, herself bowed, a bit more exaggerated and a lot more animated, 'I knew it.'

Taking long, confident strides into the precinct that was her home. Confidence suited her. 'Knew what?', Kieran asked.

Abruptly stopping and turning around, Ladell leaned in, conspiratorially almost, mock whispering, 'If you managed to get more than one date with Lauren, you must be doing something right.'

Kieran chuckled, nervously rubbing his neck, surprised more at the way Ladell said it. Almost as if she knew the truth. The truth about them. Too bad Lauren wasn’t here to outright hear the lie. 'I'd suppose so.' Hoping his reply was as timid as would be expected of him, he smiled at the Sergeant. Ladell would know better than to outright lie in front of Lauren.

For the first time this morning, like all the other days till now, Kieran wondered if Lauren’s condition about him not getting involved with anybody at the precinct was less about their safety and more about maintaining the ruse that they have sworn their midnights to. Clearing his throat, Kieran made to bid adieu, but Ladell beat him to it, jovially skipping to the steps next to him, 'Well, anyways I'm glad to have run into you. I was heading to the archives.'

Ladell? To the archives? Catching up to her, he agreed, 'Good luck, indeed.'

But was it good luck? To his knowledge, from all the spying of course, Sergeant Ladell had no reason to be in the archives. Her cases were always complete, and despite her self-proclaimed hatred of paper work, she was good at her job. She was a Sergeant already at such a young age, after all, she was immaculate with unprecedented work ethic, even if it didn’t look like it. He couldn’t stay preoccupied with his thoughts for long, as Ladell was quite a hurricane. Well, if hurricanes brought about joy and unperturbed conversation.

On the way, they passed through the bullpen and waved to secretary Desroses. Randall was there too. Huh. Maybe he was not as early as he expected to be. The only two notable absentees were the Lieutenant and his better half. Of Lune. Lauren. He could barely keep his thoughts from focusing as he gathered as much information about the pair already in the precinct.

Secretary Lila Desroses, sweet and welcoming in her actions, and if Lauren was to be believed, as innocent as Harvey Wood had seemed to be. He, however, wouldn’t put it past her to somehow be involved with the Scythe.

Grumpy Cat on the other hand, looked like he could kill a man and probably already has, but his face, always so focused, so devoid of expression and forever lost in his internalized thought, he couldn’t be a part of the Scythe. With his disposition, there was no way he could have hid under the radar if he was part of the Scythe, whether it was for betraying his fellow officers or double crossing the Scythe.

Another tale that Lauren shared with him about spilled coffee and broken mugs came to his mind as his gaze wandered across the room and stayed a minute at Lauren’s empty desk. As if being able to read his face, Ladell started talking about Lauren again, regaling amusing tales of their shared experiences.

Ladell reminds him of himself, not the man he is now, but the child he was. Exuberant, so full of life, and yet so horribly sad and trying so hard to conceal it. Her eyes betray her. As did his, but they beat that weakness out of him, when he was still a child.

As they travel the length of the hallway, Kieran the diligent listener and Ladell the weaver of stories, he couldn’t help but smile at the adeptness in her voice, veiled as naivety.

'Oh yes, the Goddess of Deduction’, Ladell recalled part of a surprisingly favorable chase at the square.

'Goddess of Deduction, huh?', Kieran confirmed, slightly amused and yet exasperated because that’s exactly the Lauren he knows.

Ladell beamed, 'Oh, yes. I mean, she encountered the Purple Hyacinth and is still alive. She's pretty awesome.'

Kieran couldn’t help the downward glance at his right hand, he whispered, 'I _do_ know about that.' Maybe Belladona was right. Naivety could never suit him. He has too many tells. Before he could spiral further, changing the subject he said, 'However, it is still a surprise to see you here for a file.' He felt Ladell complain before she actually did, as he sauntered over to take off his coat.

When he turned around, Ladell sighed, 'Contrary to what _Willame_ says, I actually do my job.'

Taking off his gloves, he smiled complacently, 'Yes, of course. They don't make you Sargent just for being the best shot at the precinct.' Toning down his smugness back to meek archivist level, turning towards the vast shelves, he asked, 'How may I help you?'

'November 14, xx17: The murder near Saint Peter’s in Greychapel’, Ladell replied.

For the second time that day, something shifts in the air. Kieran feels it and pauses. Ladell has her keen eyes on him, and so she pauses too. For a second, just one second, Kieran can’t help but remember. Pained reminders fill his vision, and he struggles to not let it show. He still doesn’t turn around.

'Are you alright?', Ladell asks and it sounds like she’s scared she might spook him.

Would her voice still be so tender if she knew who he really was? Better to turn around now and face her and brush it off as a malfunctioned thought process courtesy of an early morning. He started to reply, 'That... It's nothing I, just', and abruptly stopped.

Ladell was still as a statue, throughout it all, almost as if he was a skittish puppy that might run away. Mouth half open in the shape of all the lies left hanging, he chose to speak the truth. Heaving a sigh, eyes downturned, he broke the silence, 'I was at Allendale, on the 13th so', another pause and then he pointed to the shelves behind him. He could and he would blame _this_ on the early morning for sure.

'I'll get the file', he says, as he makes to put some distance between them, in lieu of distancing himself from the memory. This never happened before, before he met Lauren. He was getting sloppy at times, even if he loathed to admit it. In his line of work, getting sloppy gets people killed.

The Sergeant began, 'My brother', and Kieran was too keen on ignoring her, but her tone made him look back. A hand in her pocket, fiddling with something, burning holes in the ground with her gaze, she continued, ‘he was there too.'

She looked up; eyes so different than the ones he saw mere moments ago. He understood. Ladell was too much like him. He really understood.

_Pain is pain.  
So, here is my pain.  
It will not ease yours,  
but maybe you will know  
that you are not alone in your suffering.  
Pain is understood.  
Pain is pain. _

He tried to summon the utmost regret and sincerity on his face, and to his surprise, he didn’t even have to try. 'My apologies', he said. It broke the tension a little, but the solemn look on Ladell’s face was something he believed even time couldn’t efface completely.

He turned to the shelves, wading through the ones dotted with the precinct’s oldest cases, when he heard her faintly whisper, 'Daniel Ladell'. He barely caught the files that fell as he turned around at the name.

Daniel Ladell.

'I got the file', he waves as he approached the door.

Ladell was standing there with a golden pocket watch in her hand.

That pocket watch.

How did he never notice it before? How did he never notice that before? Ladell.

Ladell looked up, putting it back in her coat pocket. She smiled, all teeth and exuberance, and Kieran had to remind himself that no, he wasn’t hallucinating earlier and yes, their grim conversation from mere moments ago was rooted in reality.

Ladell left waving cheekily at him. His memories from before stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peace here. PH is really churning out fics from me like?!?!?! Okay, so this was Kieran's POV and I swear I love Kiki. It’s just that I love writing angst more lol. I'll end this when it stop making sense, but honestly the moment any of my theories here start to contradict released episodes, I'll end it cause I can't bring myself to write against canon somehow? This is derivative and full of theories that I keep thinking of when I can't sleep. Hope you enjoy reading it.  
> xx  
> Peace out.


	2. I'm coming up only to show you wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kym crooned, batting her eyelashes right in Lauren’s face for extra effect, 'Oh, just that we all can see you looking longingly at the door m’lady. Like your handsome prince will strut in any moment.'

Lauren arrived at the precinct with minutes to spare. The excursion to Greychapel was a complete bust and the infiltration to 9th, 10th, and 11th precinct archives didn’t fare any better. Maybe she could’ve actually got some sleep if not for Kieran.

_Kieran._

An audible sigh escaped her as she began her walk to the precinct. Halfway through, she held her head in her hands, shaking it to gain some semblance of reason. A man in a hideous overcoat passing by looked at her weirdly, but she walked ahead anyhow. The sun was now starting to come up. If Kieran’s assignment was to kill Lune, and he clearly couldn’t actually afford to kill Lune, he had to be digging up information on the VII Apostle’s plans. 

Her hand flew to her neck, almost instinctively, and she cringed. For better or for worse, they had to be working together, and much to her disbelief, he did seem genuine in his apology. There wasn’t a single lie in the things he had said back at the Carmine Camelia. But could she trust him again? _I am a man of my word._ And then he had to go and break it all, just when she was starting to see him as a human.

Straightening her back, she looked straight ahead. The precinct was close. Dwelling on this wouldn’t solve things. These things and musings are for after the threat of ruin has passed over Ardhalis. That is, if they both can survive to bring about and see that _after_.

Walking into the precinct, she nearly slammed the door into a frantic mess of raven hair and ocean eyes. Confused to see Kieran, she asked, 'Oh, are you leaving already?'

He barely spared her a glance, struggling to get out, 'Yes, **I have somewhere to be**.'

The lie made her ears perk up and she made to reach out for his arm, but he slipped right through. Does she really have to deal with this unhinged man so early in the morning? Annoyance filled the air between them, as Lauren gritted, ready to give him a piece of her mind, 'Kieran? Hey -', only to have the beginnings of concern cloud her face.

_The ocean was in the eye of a storm._

He turned around, throwing an 'I'll see you later’, but that’s not what caught Lauren’s attention. His eyes had been too hollow. That expression. Her mind flashed with images of a cold, damp cave and inhuman, cynical laughter. Something was wrong.

'Hey, wait! Kieran!', she shouted to no avail but he was already gone. She raced to her friends. In theory she knew, he wouldn’t dare do anything in broad daylight and he did promise that to her, but to see that expression on his face? She didn’t trust him like that. It scared her more than she let on.

She couldn’t stay calm. Screams filled the air as she got closer to the room, and she stopped short of opening the door, when she realized it was Kym, screaming at Will about her watermelons. She let out a breath, she didn’t realize that she had been holding.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, composing herself, she entered the room. Everything was alright. They all were alright. However, somehow, something was wrong and she couldn’t quite place it. Something was wrong. Siding with Kym on Will’s only-four-watermelons-allowed-on-the-desk debacle, just to annoy him, she settled at her desk, only to be lost in thought again. 'Lauren!', Kym waved a hand right in her face, startling her.

She had zoned out. Again. She rubbed her eyes, looking back to see agitation gracing the features of both Kym and Will. Something was wrong. Something was going on with Kieran but she couldn’t let it show on her face. She couldn’t get them involved in her mess.

She put an as genuine of a smile as she could muster as she asked, 'Sorry, what were you saying?'

All the agitation on Kym’s face turned to glee, while Will’s face took to the shape of a scowl. The horridly exasperated one, that was reserved specifically for Kym’s antiques. Kym crooned, batting her eyelashes right in Lauren’s face for extra effect, 'Oh, just that we all can see you looking longingly at the door m’lady. Like your handsome prince will strut in any moment.'

Well, she was. But she also knew that Kieran left and how could she help her gaze when she was genuinely worried for her friends. She made to deny, 'I wasn't -', but Kym interrupted her.

A hand on her forehead and another waving around from the door to Lauren, barely restraining herself from shouting to the entire room, she exclaimed, 'Oh, how sweet doth love be!' A glint caught in her eyes, she grabbed her shoulders, she demanded, 'Have you confessed your undying love for- '

Before she could finish her query, Will pushed her towards her desk, with a stern, 'Enough Ladell. The only confessing you should concern yourself with is the one you haven't reported yet. Back to paperwork.'

Kym, appalled, started to counter, 'But I - ', only to be led to her desk by Will as he shook his head, determinedly, 'No.' Lauren should remember to thank Will for keeping his promise about keeping their _dating_ a secret.

Begrudgingly, Kym sat down to do her paperwork, pouting, 'Such a cantaloupe.' That made Lauren laugh. She smiled at her friends’ graceless bouts of ridicule.

As soon as she turned to her paperwork, her thoughts led back to Kieran. It didn’t go unnoticed. She saw Will looking at her, and she realized how she had accidentally played the part of the anxious lover. Will came to her desk, leaning against it.'To be honest, Lauren, you really have been out of it’, he hesitated, ‘and I would let you go to the archives but Kieran left.’

She smiled sadly at him, ‘I know, **I missed him moments before I got here**.’

Will nodded, ‘Well, you don’t know why either, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t look so anxious.’ Then, Will smirked, ‘It’s nice to see you be worried over something other than paperwork.’ She rolled her eyes, having Will speak to her, but hearing a hint of Kym’s vibrance. Kym was good for him.

Lauren wanted to scoff at that, wanting to tell Will that she wasn’t anxious for Kieran, as he assumed, but for her friends. Maybe some other unnamable thing too, that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, and that she knew was wrong. She began fiddling with a pencil on her desk. Her fingers stopped to move. Could it be? Did he actually had nowhere to be but he needed to prepare for a new assignment? Could it be that his time to find Lune was up?

A beat passed. Will noticed Lauren’s furrowed brow, and whispered, 'Well, I've never seen him like that.'

Lauren agreed, ‘ **Maybe he’s just ill**.’ Internally, she thought that she hadn’t seen him like that either. But she had. Her eyes widened at the memory.

A shrill sound caught both of their attention. The source of the sound, one Sergeant Kym Ladell, looking for all the world, guilty. ‘Kieran went home?’, she asked, almost like she knew something.

It was Will that broke the silence first, 'Ladell. What do you know?'

Kym’s expression soured for a moment, and then it was back to her usual nonchalance, as she replied, 'Well, we were talking about Allendale earlier when I went to get a file. He looked a little shook. Maybe that’s why he left?’

The Purple Hyacinth, growing measly at the mention of Allendale and hurrying to solace? That didn’t make sense at all. Apparently, it didn’t make sense for a non-assassin to do that either as Will and Lauren shared twin looks of incertitude.

Kym replied in kind with a bewildered look of her own, staring them down for a whole minute before stating, 'He said that he was there on the 13th.'

Will gasped, 'Oh.'

Oh, indeed. Kym turned the full force of her stare to Lauren, inquiring, ‘You didn’t know?’

Both their gazes turned to her, and akin to a cat caught breaking a vase, she stared back incredulously. Was that something she should have known? As far as Will and Kym knew, they had been _dating_ for a few months. It would be hard to convince them that she never once brought up the topic of Allendale with her _supposed beau_.

'You didn't tell him yet, did you?', Will asked, and Lauren didn’t have to ask to know just what or rather who he was talking about. Eyes turned to the floor, she nodded. Lying to her friends was hard when every single lie she told weighed down on her. Being closed off has its perks. Thank god for that. Will straightened up, announcing, 'We don’t have patrol today and as opposed to someone’, he turned, glaring daggers at Kym and receiving swords in return, ‘you can afford to let your paperwork slide for one day.'

Lauren hesitated, 'Will, I - ', but Will held his hand up, 'Just go. You won't be doing yourself a favor if you stay here a nervous mess.'

She wanted to argue but he was right. Grabbing her coat, enthusiastically, she saluted, 'Yes, Lieutenant!', and turned to leave, waving at Kym in response to her mouthing ‘I’ll miss you’ at her. Maybe she could do some more searching for the nitroglycerine in her free time.

As she was getting out of the precinct, she realized what was wrong. Kieran, when he left, looked very much like the unhinged monster back in the cave that day, with his blank gaze, but the thing that couldn’t escape her notice was one stark difference. That rainy night, the one man in front of her was trying to scare her into leaving, but this time, it seems that there was something that scared the monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back here in a day because I have zero self-control. ZERO!  
> Anyhow, I'm loving the ride I'm on.  
> {Psst psst, notice how chapter 1 title is a lyric from Monster by Imagine Dragons, and chapter 2 title is from The Funeral by Band of Horses ;)  
> I think I'm so awesome for being this subtle XD}  
> Hope you like the new chapter!!!


	3. Put all your faults to bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, Will smiled, feeling a lot lighter than when they had begun the conversation. He took in all the grandeur of the one and only person that could grate on his nerves and soothe them at the same damn time. The only one who would be the death of him.

It hadn’t been long since Lauren left, when Will asked Kym to come to the break room. Lune may have dialled down their involvement, but the duty to uncover and capture them was still on Soleil’s shoulders. Will stood facing the window, resting his arms on the quaint wood. Over a month into the investigation and they still had no idea about the identities of Lune. 

There was so much resting on his shoulders, not just as a Lieutenant of the 11th precinct, but also as the sole heir of the Hawkes fortune and legacy. He was deep into his musings when the door swung open. He turned around to see Kym appear through the door, jacket slung half over her shoulder, a silent confidence in her steps and the demeanour to match it. 

She walked over resting both her hands on the desk separating her from him, ‘ _We_ need to talk.’ 

Will gave her a quizzical look, ‘ _I’m_ the one who told you to meet me. Of course, I know that we need to talk.’ 

Kym shrugged, ‘No matter who asked first, that doesn’t change that we still need to talk.’ Kym perched on the table, turning to her side to meet his eyes. 

Will put his hands in his pocket, taking a moment of silent deliberation. Kym started,   
‘I think we should stop investigating Lune in _our_ precinct.’   
Two clocks forever in synchronization, Will spoke up at the same time as her,   
‘I think we should start investigating Lune in _other_ precincts.’

Kym startled, ‘You want to investigate Lune in other precincts?’ 

Will turned his head, looking at Kym as if she was a fish climbing a tree, making no sense at all, ‘Yes. Obviously, Lune isn’t from our precinct.’ They had already done enough research and spying on their colleagues to know that by now. Will asked, ‘You want to stop investigating Lune here?’

Kym’s face lost a bit of its edge, as she turned away before replying, ‘I was thinking of turning in the report to Herman and putting an end to it?’ Her voice portrayed the hesitance in her question, almost as if she knew Will would be mad to hear it, but there was a bit of stray hope in it too, maybe hoping that she could convince him to follow through with her plans. 

Will froze, breathing heavy. He couldn’t give up on it. He stood his ground, ‘We can’t do that.’ 

Sensing the about-to-be argument, Kym wailed, ‘ _Willame_ , we didn’t find a single trace of Lune.’ She got up from the desk to fully face him now, ‘What makes you think we’ll find them in precincts we know nothing about?’ 

Stone cold eyes now, Will stated, ‘We do have to try, Ladell. It is our duty.’

There wasn’t much one could do to sway the Lieutenant from his convictions. The man William Hawkes was, was anything but the persona he had as Lieutenant. Sweet, soft spoken, understanding Will turned into an extraordinary young man with an undoubtedly strong presence. The sense of duty that Will had for his father and family, turned to the sense of duty he put forth in all his actions, especially becoming the reason of him making it to Lieutenant at such a young age.

Ready to fight tooth and nail, Kym asked, ‘And what makes you think that other Captains would even _let_ us investigate their officers?’ That was true. Hermann said as much when Lune began to operate. That was another reason why Hermann was so adamant on finding Lune in the precinct, almost as if to let the entire police force know that he was right. She crossed her arms, pouting, ‘Not everybody is as distrusting as Hermann.’

That got her a pause from Will, as he pondered upon it. Will exclaimed, ‘So, we should just do nothing then?’, voice raising an octave now, in desperation of achieving and frustration of failing, ‘Lune is still out there! We can’t just let them be!’

Kym stood her ground, surprisingly defending Lune’s actions, ‘Those two have done a better job than all of us! Combined!’ 

That is how it had been for a while now. Will solely focused on catching Lune, and Kym being sympathetic to the vigilante duo. That is not something that any police officer, much less a Sergeant should advocate. That enraged Will. He stood relentless, ‘They are working against the law!’ 

One headstrong fool to another, Kym matched his relentlessness, ‘They aren’t even active anymore!’ And wasn’t that true? The vigilantes had been inactive ever since the Tower. The Tower. 

Finding relevance, Will retorted coldly, ‘The Purple Hyacinth hasn’t been active since the Tower. Would you want to let him off the hook as well?’ 

There was only a glimmering rage in Kym’s eyes at that. The easy calm of her aura slipped for just a minute. She stated coolly, ‘Murder and blackmail are two different things. You _know_ that.’ 

It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that Kym was worried for Will. She knew his family life was difficult and even if he didn’t talk about it, it was the reason he didn’t live in the family home. She knew how hard he tried to get everything perfect. She knew how scared he was of failing to be anything but the best. She also knew Will deserved better than to run in circles defending convictions that weren’t his own, convictions that had been and were still being forced on him to agree with. As all these emotions crossed her mind, Kym kept looking at Will. 

Then, warmth and daresay, an inkling of concern seeped into the atmosphere, as she whispered softly to William, ‘You _know_ better.’ His eyes took in the way Kym looked at him. Pity wasn’t quite the emotion, but whatever it was, made him do a double take. The candour left him speechless. 

All his rage, desperation and hurt melted, until all that was left behind was a tranquillity that had always suited his bright blue eyes. He sighed, ‘I do. It’s just – ‘, he just wants to do one thing right. That, he didn’t say. Instead, he said, ‘Lune’s convicts are dead and it is on us.’ 

Kym huffed, uncrossing her arms, ‘No, it’s not. Nobody asked them to associate with the Phantom Scythe. You know that.’ She ran her hands through her hair, murmuring, ‘You are always screaming at me anyway, so you can just tell me what’s bothering you as well.’ Now, a gleam on her face, she clapped her hands. ‘But you’ll have to get me watermelon first.’ 

A huff of laughter escaped him. Despite everything, Will smiled, feeling a lot lighter than when they had begun the conversation. He took in all the grandeur of the one and only person that could grate on his nerves and soothe them at the same damn time. The only one who would be the death of him. He sighed, ‘It’s like no matter what I do it’s never enough.’ 

Even if she didn’t have Lauren’s ability, he couldn’t lie to her. Open emotion on her face, she began, ‘Will – ‘, hesitating on how to breach such a delicate topic. It wasn’t something she didn’t already know. It hurt to watch Will always work himself so close to breaking, until he was torn apart between choice and duty and ultimately frayed at the edges, every single day. 

Remembering their walk from, what now seemed like ages ago, he turned away and carried on, ‘Just forget it. You’re right. We’ll submit the report to Hermann today.’ 

Kym made a noise of dissension that earned her a quirked eyebrow from Will. She shrugged, ‘Yeah, that is not what I meant when I said that we shouldn’t investigate our precinct anymore.’ Seeming to brace herself, or what she would call channelling Lauren, she said, ‘What I meant was, instead of trying to find Lune, why not find the person Lune might go for next.’ 

It barely took a moment for Will to agree with her, ‘That might actually work.’

Leaning on the desk and pulling out a pen and paper, Kym began to draw, ‘So, all we have to do is find a connection between McTrevor, Anslow, Blakesley and Colden,’ four circles down on the crisp white sheet, she began to connect them, ending it in a question mark, ‘and then figure out who fits the profile to be their next pet project.’ 

Will shook his head, ‘If Lune wanted to strike, they would have done so ages ago. The Tower changed things.’ They looked at each other, then at the paper laid down at the table. 

Kym deduced, ‘They don’t want to get people killed, even the ones that aren’t innocent.’ That makes Lune more human than any of the other criminals that they have had the misfortune of investigating. To be honest, the only thing Lune seemed to have done was question the victims and then leave them for the police. They _were_ helping the law even if they themselves were running from it. In Kym’s eyes, it made them more of a good thing than bad. 

‘The most important question is why now?’ 

Will seemed to have caught on to her trail of thoughts. If Lune had the ability to break into a police precinct, why wait till now? Why expose the traitors to the throne now? Why now? 

Kym began to think out loud, ‘Well, they all were Phantom Scythe.’ Recognition struck her, claims of false leads that Danny would always complain about at the dinner table, ‘Could it be – ‘ 

The horror on her face reflected on Will’s, just a second late. They both had the same realisation. Will continued, ‘– that the Phantom Scythe is planning – ‘ 

Again, they both spoke concurrently,   
‘– another Allendale?’ 

They both stood there, staring at each other in horror. It only made sense, right? If that is what the Phantom Scythe was planning, it made sense for Lune to be making such bold moves now. They were surely being hunted down by the Scythe as well, and as Will suspected maybe they already were either dead or being tortured by the Scythe.

The weight of their deductions held the room in its grasp. Minutes passed, and all that seemed to change was the positions of the hands on the clock. Lost in remembrance of their own tragedies, the air shifted around them. Ultimately, Will broke the silence, ‘I really think we should submit the report to Hermann and back off from investigating Lune.’ 

Kym was dumbstruck. They had to go after Lune. Now, more than ever. They couldn’t possibly let any more innocents be sacrificed at the hands of the Scythe. ‘Are you kidding me? What if – ‘, Kym began startled.

Will stopped her abruptly, ‘I said, that we should submit the report to Hermann and back off from investigating Lune, because,’ he paused, leaning closer, as if letting the Sergeant in on a most insidious piece of gossip, ‘if we are to dig into the Scythe, Hermann can’t know.’ Will kept a straight face, but a hint of a smirk sparkled in his eyes anyhow. 

Satisfied, Kym beamed back, ‘So, you want to not only investigate a deadly terrorist organization, but also keep it from your Captain? Oh, I am loving this, Hawkes.’ 

Ignoring the blush that came to his face at the remark, he walked to the door. He turned to her, ‘Well, _Soleil_ has work to do.’ That got him an earnest smile, and before Kym could get on his case for using the name that she devised for them, he left the room. 

Chuckling a little, he called out through the open door, ‘Let’s discuss more after we’re done with patrol.’ 

Finally, finding herself to be free of investigating who she supposed was partly Lauren, Kym relaxed. She hurried after Will with a smile, needing to annoy him as much as she needed oxygen. Well, it was closer to her incessant want for watermelons. With a blinding toothy grin, she went on to annoy Will, as she always did on their patrols. 

Meanwhile, a warehouse in the second district seemed to concentrate on one half of Lune too. Unfortunately, their intentions were nowhere close to the ones of our beloved police officers. 

A gust of wind flew through a crack in the broken glass of the window. There lay a board next to it, overflowing at the edges with pictures and yarn. Tiny notes adorned it, scribbled hastily. A camera lay on the table next to it. A bang sounds throughout the abandoned building, as a foreboding of the trials that our duo is still to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is that?? Plot??? With pretty Kywi content??  
> Lol, I gotta say this fic is gonna take a while as I tune out the finer plot points but believe me when I say that I have the Lauki arc plotted to perfection and I’m 7/8 chapters into writing so much angst  
> MUAHAHAHAH  
> Today’s title is from King by Lauren Aquilina, which I know thanks to Sophism’s Kywi playlist on YouTube  
> Hope you like it!!  
> Love, Peace.


	4. The time will come, when you'll have to rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever his motivations, whatever his flaws, he was the best chance she had at her vengeance. He was the best chance the city had, and wasn’t that funny. The man who had terrorized Ardhalis for the better part of a decade was the only one who was enough of an imbecile with impeccable disregard for his own safety that he just might succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter title corresponds to a song title that I think fits the mood of the chapter. Find the playlist on Spotify: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0C7PbG4T9X0RfoOVG1TLhB?si=HjlBV8YsQCy5b1rXdD26rA

Messenger VII sat on a dusty table, in a building at the corner of Umberbridge street, as opposed to his waiting place at the Grim Goblin. This assignment was even more sacred and dangerous than Apostle VII’s plans. The leader must never find out. The door slammed open with a bang, hinges brash with disuse, as a figure turned to close it. The messenger announced, ‘You are late.’

A man sauntered forward, shooting a wary glance across the room, ‘I was busy keeping tabs on our investment.’

The messenger cocked his head, ‘Were you?’ The mask covering his face, functioned not only to protect his identity but also to cover any emotions that may come bristling to the surface, and yet a twinge of exasperation hummed in his voice. ‘You know what happens to those who go their own way.’

Trying his best to maintain a façade of calm, the man bowed, ‘I am here to serve the VII. You are well aware of my vengeance with the leader and his _puppet_.’ He spat the last word out, like a man spitting out glass and choking on his own blood. In a way, he was choking on his own blood, given the history he shared with the most feared assassin that Ardhalis had ever seen.

‘A traitor to the leader, you wouldn’t survive without our help. You know that, don’t you?’

It was a finality. A constant reminder to Cameron Grey. No matter where he goes, no matter how far he manages to run, he will always be at another’s mercy, be it at the mercy of some faceless apostle or at that of the leader. He hung his head low, ‘Yes.’

That’s how it worked in the Phantom Scythe.

Luring in the desperate with promises of a better world, breaking them down and taking away even the thought that they would get out of here alive, and when that thought had been ingrained in their heads, a chainsaw to their brains, simply ordering them to commit the most vile and personal of crimes, while the higher-ups sat back and enjoyed the show. All they accomplished was to sit back in their faceless nonchalance, and their bloodless hands, while their hearts and conscience turned to black and disintegrated with the weight of their sins, unbeknownst to them.

A beat passed, the messenger speaking again, ‘Your orders have changed.’

Grey’s eyes widened. This was his chance to get to the Hyacinth. He couldn’t let it go. Stepping towards the seated messenger, he screamed, ‘I have to be here! I can prove to you that I can stay – ‘

‘ _Don’t_ make assumptions, Grey.’

The deadly cool of the messenger’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Reaffirming Grey of his upper hand in the tense atmosphere, the messenger continued, ‘Flemmings is indisposed for the time being. He has to keep a low profile so you will take care of the shipments.’

The messenger handed him a file. Grey nodded, ‘Alright.’ The messenger turned to the door, with the intention to vanish as he always did, but he rarely did so in broad daylight.

Facing the open door, the messenger spoke, ‘You will have your revenge. We all want the revolution but none of us want the Hyacinth to live.’ He paused, words conflicting inside his mind, ‘He’s too _loyal_. Either he will die at your hands or he will be dying on the 17th. That has been his destiny since the moment he took his mantle.’

Grey turned to look at the messenger, form impeccable and back turned away. He responded, ‘I will take care of the shipments.’

The messenger turned his head to relay one last message, ‘See to it that you keep the storage free of _them_.’

Grey did not have to ask to know what the messenger meant. Gripping the file with both hands, he answered, ‘Yes, I do’, then, gathering more conviction, ‘VII will have no chance to be disappointed.’

That got him a double take from the messenger, or so he thought. It was hard to read the messenger through the mask and disguise. The messenger turned around fully. Double take it is. Pointing the end of his stick at Grey’s face, he made it clear, ‘If you don’t, know that the snake is under orders from Apostle VII to tie up any and all loose ends, as may be deemed necessary.’ He once again turned to the door, speaking, ‘You may keep track of the investment if you can.’

Then, he vanished as easily as he had come. Grey was left alone in the building, holding the file in a deathly grip. He had finally been let into the capital. He could not start to disappoint Apostle VII now. He turned to look at his board. Lauren Sinclair was getting suspicious. He will have to keep track of the investment alongside taking care of the shipments. He had no choice.

__________

Leaving the precinct was much easier than deciding where to go. That was probably the reason Lauren was strolling through the streets under the protection of the 11th precinct. Protection, huh? Lauren scoffed. Sauntering away, this time, her pace was timid and she found the distraction of watching the people on the street all too welcoming.

Jacket in hand, and her mask lying safe in her pocket, Lauren let down her hair, rubbing her head. For a minute, just one minute, it was so easy to forget that there wasn’t a threat of ultimate destruction looming over all these innocent people.

She stopped in front of a park, watching a little brown-haired girl run away. She turned around to see who she was running from. It was another girl, a little older, maybe eight. They ran around the swing in circles, screaming out of pure joy, ferociously. They were lost in their own world, when they abruptly sat down on the ground. The sun was now up high in the sky, golden rays painting the air with warmth.

Lauren leaned against a lamp post, breathing in the air, finding herself more at calm than she had been in a long while. A little giggle broke into her reverie, the two girls lost in their world of make-believe. For them, it was too easy to be rambunctious. The sweet innocence of childhood. She turned her head to observe the people in the street, running away to their respective jobs, a fruit vendor entertaining a little child in his curiosity of kiwis, simply people being people.

She smiled. She stood there, watching those little tiny trickles of humanity weave into stories right in front of her eyes. This was what she had sworn to protect. This was the reason she had agreed to that horrendous deal in the first place. But that was the point. The deal wasn’t horrendous. She trudged, begrudgingly, in the direction of the bridge. Sure, she had her quest for revenge as her greatest motivator, and it was only right. She owed it to the ones she had lost.

The leader had to be put down, in that he was no different than a rabid dog. She owed it to all the innocents that had to die at the hands of the Scythe. Maybe all that wasn’t her burden to bear, but this surely wasn’t the time to be questioning it yet.

However insane it may have seemed at first glance; the deal had led her closer to justice. Kieran White, the Purple Hyacinth, had led her closer to justice. She really was a hypocrite. She needed to protect the people. That’s what she kept telling herself, and yet, she couldn’t help but wish she had a chance to interrogate Anslow before his death. She couldn’t have saved him. She could have tried with all her might and it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Whatever his motivations, whatever his flaws, _he_ was the best chance she had at her vengeance. He was the best chance the city had, and wasn’t that funny. The man who had terrorized Ardhalis for the better part of a decade was the only one who was enough of an imbecile with impeccable disregard for his own safety that he just might succeed. Despite his misgivings, despite the blood on his hands, Kieran White was _not_ the Purple Hyacinth. Kieran White was destined to be the saviour of Ardhalis, whether any of them could ever make peace with that notion or not. 

She found herself crossing the bridge without much thought. It was only when she stood at the other end of the bridge, faced with dilapidated buildings and a rundown neighbourhood, that she stopped to ask the most important question of herself, ‘Where do I go now?’

__________

Loud footsteps were heard from the alcove, pausing for a beat, only to turn into the sound of the parlour door unlocking. Dakan stepped forth, pleasantries unneeded, for there was no one watching anymore. He sat down, head glaring holes into the report he had been holding. He turned to the royal, sitting across the table from him, with a grim expression. An unmoving gaze, questions filled to the brim in both their eyes, they savoured a moment of silence.

‘I got a hold of Tristan, and informed him of the most recent,’ here he paused, finding the right word, ‘proceedings,’ he slid the report across the table. Lizbeth caught it with deft fingers.

Crownless head that she now held in her palm, she darted to the report. Horror gripped the languid calm of her eyes, smothering it out of existence. She sat straighter, looking right at Dakan, ‘And how correct is the assessment?’

Dakan shifted in his seat. Resting both elbows down, he answered, ‘If the sources are correct, 17 is going to be a blood bath.’

The report visibly and audibly scrunched in Lizbeth’s hands. ‘So many things,’ she gulped, shutting her eyes, ‘there are so many things that we could have done! That _I_ could have done!’

Dakan perked up at that, moving one hand to unfurl Lizbeth’s and another to take the report away. He let his hand stay there, the weighted comfort of shared knowledge and assurance. They sat silently until Lizbeth looked up, the same rage that she had tried not to uncover for ages, now resurfacing. Hoping to ease a little bit of tension, Dakan asked, ‘Did it change anything last time?’

The glaring swords of her irises calmed down. The past was never a particularly nice thing to remember but it was always a reminder. Sometimes you can do all the good in the world and it would still not be enough. It _was_ good intentions that paved the road to hell, after all.

Lizbeth shifted back in her chair, placing a palm under her cheek. To everyone else, even Philip at times, she had to pretend to be someone stronger than who she really was, but if there was anything she knew, it was that Lord Dakan Rhysmel would be the least scornful judge and the most arduous protector of the monarchy and therefore, the city. Lizbeth got up. Dakan turned as if to say something, but he hesitated, merely choosing to observe Lizbeth as she put on the mask of indifference that she was expected to carry with her throughout the palace.

Stopping in her tracks, Lizbeth quirked up an eyebrow at him. He relented, ‘I think Philip should know about this. Now.’ He left, _before a repeat of the tower_ , hanging in the air between them, adding to the stifling.

Lizbeth shook her head, blonde strands escaping the barely-there talons of her clutched bun. She turned a pleading eye to him, ‘He’s come a long way from Edward’s antiques. He must not know.’

Dakan rubbed his forehead, ‘I still think that it’s a – ‘

‘Dakan Rhysmel.’

Lizbeth’s rashness caught him by surprise. She continued, looking at him squarely, ‘I will not have him fall apart. Not again.’

That was the end of it. Lizbeth walked out of the parlour, leaving Dakan with the weight of the report and more than his share of guilt. He sighed, relaxing into the chair.

Fifteen years. Fifteen years of lies and longing. Fifteen years of fighting tooth and nail to correct their mistakes. Fifteen years of making sure the monarchy never crumbled. Ten years since the Allendale bombings. Ten years since losing some of his best friends.

Fifteen years of torture, ten that the pain only seemed to come and go in swells, waves lashing on the shore of his helplessness, and yet. Forcing his palm into a fist, he gritted his teeth.

_Yet, the guilt only festered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello Shady Characters and Plot Points and Missing Pieces!!!!! I don’t ship DakanBeth but I hope we get to see them interact more. Also, I think Will’s dad, Tristan, Dakan and Lizbeth are probably at the same level of sus???
> 
> So, I try to keep a minimum of 2K every chapter and I have no beta readers so if the pace is off or it gets too repetitive or the plot or the dialogue doesn’t carry through well? Oh well…
> 
> Song of the chapter: Warriors by Imagine Dragons
> 
> So, this fic is post S1 and diverges a little here and there starting season 2, roughly following the main points till episode 66, but one thing to note is that you will able to figure out when Lauren is lying here as opposed to the Webtoon. Or rather when she says things she doesn’t actually believe. Next up will be the chapter why this fic came to be. I had fun imagining every single detail and plotting it. I can only hope you’ll like it too. 
> 
> Much love,  
> Peace out.


	5. Between the madness and the apathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene why this fic came into existence.

It was a very strange turn of events that led to Lauren standing in front of apartment number sixteen on Formclay Boulevard. She was here to see Kieran. Well, not so much as _seeing_ him but rather _checking_ what he was up to. Standing across the bridge, she deliberated over her choices. She only knew two of his hideouts. One, his lair deep in the forest. Two, his apartment across the neighbourhood.

Now, his lair, _the cave_ , she was set on avoiding for obvious reasons. Only one place left to go. Even then, there was no guarantee he would be there. He might have promised her that if they go down, they go down together, but he wouldn’t be careless enough to let her know all his safe spaces. So, the apartment it was. Even though Lauren had been there only once, she didn’t have any memory of getting there. Drowning in guilt from reeling over the shock of Harvey being a double agent and the pain from her injuries had kept her preoccupied. She may even have dozed off a little but would never admit that in front of Kieran.

Halfway through the way, she stopped.

There must be a reason why Kieran left as and when he did. Should she really be going after him? What if it was a mistake? The last that she went after him acting purely on impulse didn’t exactly end well either.

She made to turn around, but Kieran’s face flashed in front of her eyes. Frantic eyes that had been the same as the hollow dead of ice, barely sparing her a glance. She had to go check on him, and that’s how she found herself at his door, sure of her decision and yet hesitant. Four loud knocks. Then, four more knocks. She called out to him, asking him to open the door. It had already been a few minutes.

Ready to leave, in a last-ditch attempt, Lauren tried for the door. It opened without a creak. The door was unlocked. The door was unlocked? What kind of man kept his front door unlocked like that? She didn’t doubt that she would be an unwelcome guest, so she chose not to go ahead, instead calling out to him, 'Kieran!’ She left the door open just a creak. She spent another minute tapping a tune on the side of the wooden threshold.

The glimpse of the room she got from the outside didn’t make it seem like anything was out of the ordinary, so the question was where was Kieran? If he was inside, why didn’t he answer? Knocking off the worst of thoughts, she promised to only continue tapping on the side of the door for a minute more before barging in.

Unwelcome intruder or not, assassin or not, she couldn’t leave him if he really was in the apartment and was somehow unable to get to the door. Could he actually be sick enough that he couldn’t even get to the door? Or even be unable to answer? And why would he just leave his door open like that? He may be the Purple Hyacinth but that didn’t mean he was invincible. He had to be a fool if he thought so, and she would be too.

He may be a cocky bastard but he was smart, wasn’t he? Making up her mind, she let herself in, announcing, ‘You didn’t answer so don’t you _dare_ point your sword at me!'

The apartment looked exactly like the morning of Harvey’s funeral. Emitting a quaint warmth, the remnants of a life, normal like any other. That was the problem after all. The man she abhorred was just that, a man. As far as she could see there were no signs of struggle, the couch immaculate and a burnt-out candle lying on the kitchen table. The detective in her never did rest. She went straight for the bedroom then, pausing a little, almost whispering his name at the door.

Something in her didn’t let her raise her voice. Maybe the fear of finding him long past the possibility of being able to hear or not finding him at all. Gaining traction, she said, 'I will shoot you in the head if you are fine and you still didn’t come to the door. 'In lieu of an absent response, she opened the door, almost expecting him to mock her for her unimaginative threat. Bed, made. Room, normal. Kieran, not there. It was silent, too silent rather. Where could he possibly be?

She would have left for the cave, but her eyes shot across the room, finally landing on the door next to the bathroom. Her feet led her to it, and before she could register how she moved, her hands absentmindedly ran over the lock. It was locked the last time she was there.

If her luck was any better, the door might just be open. Truthfully, if her luck was any better, the door would be locked. What would she do if he wasn’t at the cave either? He wasn’t on an assignment. He would’ve said so. He didn’t exactly have anywhere to be as _that_ was a lie. Where could he be if not –

She tried her luck and the door opened. So, it wasn’t locked now. She decided to just take a peek. What’s the worst that could happen? A lot, her mind replied in kind.

Looking in, it felt too much like intruding into a moment that she was never supposed to witness. 

Kieran sat there, down on the floor, his back hunched over something she couldn’t see. He looked small, almost fragile. Ready to enter, she began to fully open the door, the creak of the hinges giving her away. Instinctively, Kieran threw a knife at her, only registering who dared to disturbed his sanctity a minute too late.

Grabbing the knife at the hilt, just in time, she rolled her eyes, 'I said I'll shoot you if you do that again.' Lauren stood there holding the knife, while Kieran looked at her, almost unsure if she really was there, or was only a painful conjuring in one of his nightmares.

Visibly in shock, he blanched, 'Lauren? When did you –‘, he trailed off.

Lauren was ready to get on Kieran’s case for being an idiot and a careless one on top of that. She didn’t. Kieran was ready to jump to his defense and mock Lauren for intruding on his private property despite being an officer of the law. He didn’t. They simply stood there, frozen. A static buzzed in the air, and as easily as it had taken over, it broke.

Lauren mused, ‘So, you didn't hear me screaming at your door for the past ten minutes?'

That seemed to free Kieran of his stupor as well. Lauren took a step forward.

'Don't come in.'

He barely looked at her when he said that, instead turning around to hide whatever he seemed to have in his hands. Any other day, Lauren would have retorted and fought him with words until one of them had to give up, or rather he had no choice but to let her be, but not today.

She couldn’t do that today. Not when Kieran White looked so close to breaking, a breath away from crumbling. Not when he looked so much like his name, that it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to vanish into thin air right then and there.

It took Kieran only five seconds to regain the persona he always seemed to have on hand, the persona of the sarcastic, egotistical ruthless assassin. It took Kieran five seconds too long. It may have fooled Lauren if she hadn’t seen him about a minute ago.

He turned to her, with as much surety and nonchalance as he could muster, only to have it all fall apart at the way she looked at him, with genuine concern. When was the last time that someone had looked at him with even half that regard?

Someone did. He remembered that now. That was the reason why he ran back here. 

Lauren looked at him, scared of what could possibly make Kieran lose his composure, before turning away and answering, 'I'm waiting out here.' She didn’t know why she did that. All she knew was that her eyes were too focused on his fragile form to be able to see what the room was. She waited for Kieran to come out of the room, wondering if she should have come at all.

__________

Kieran raced back to his apartment faster than he had run to the precinct. He possibly could not have stayed there for a moment more. Kieran couldn’t help it. The run home barely made a dent in his long-term memory, having been forgotten just as soon as it was over.

He dashed to his front door, opening it with shaking fingers, and letting it close on itself after him. He didn’t even pay enough attention to lock the door behind him. All he could pay attention to were the screams taunting his foggy memory. He raced right to his office, a mad man, prey running away from the wild, into the safety of a burrow, his burrow, the hurricane of sketches in the office.

_From the eye of the hurricane to a hurricane of shades of grey._

Mindless of the door creaking as it shut, he went up to the framed picture on the wall right next to it. All the sketches around him reminding him of humanity, but this was probably the only drawing he had ever done that not only reminded him of humanity but seemed to sneer at him, at his misgivings.

It seemed like a memory that had been buried deep down. The pocket watch in Kym’s hand turning out to be the catalyst to bring it to the surface. Earlier he only remembered screaming at _her_ and the other kids to run. Now, he remembered the face of the kind man. Now, he remembered his name too. _Daniel Ladell._

How could he _forget_? Did the Scythe torture him _that bad_? And yet, the lesson they ingrained in him by killing Daniel Ladell had stayed with him despite the memory leaving him.

_The moment you choose to run, they all will suffer. Innocents will die._

How dare he forget? Between the madness and the apathy, he grew up to be who he is now. Banging his fist next to the wall at the onslaught of memories, he felt himself losing his grip.

Minutes changed into an eternity of recollection. If there was one thing that he could be sure of, it was that the Ladell family must not have found out what actually happened. Did they even know how selflessly Daniel gave himself up? Tracing the fresh dents in the wall, Kieran stepped back. He went straight to where he needed to be.

The third stack of books lying to the right from his desk. Calloused fingers delicately pulled out a sheet from below two books, almost mindlessly. It was the drawing he had made of the Sergeant and the Lieutenant on his first day. Holding the picture, he sat down on the floor, next to his desk. If he looked closely, he could see the similarities.

The memory was still hazy but now he knew it was real. He had woken up with a start, only to find himself in a room surrounded with children just like him. There was too much screaming and yet, he couldn’t find _the one_ he wanted to find. He was being led outside, just like the ones before him. The sun still shone, but there was a chill in the air, replicating itself deep in his bones as well.

It was well past noon now. All he could hear were _her_ cries. No matter how bloodied and broken, he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let _her_ get hurt. When he interfered, they caught him. He screamed at _her_ to run. _She_ ran and they let _her_. They dragged him away instead.

It was well into the night when he met Daniel Ladell for the first and last time. He was so tired when Sergeant Daniel Ladell had found him. He could barely make sense of what the man was talking about. It showed in the way his eyes blinked too harshly. Eyes glancing from his watch, to the children in the compound, and back to the watch, Daniel asked them all to follow him. Kieran raced to the front. When Daniel Ladell was shot to death, two alleys from where they had begun to run, Kieran raced to the front then too. What cruel coincidence was it that Kieran had to be stuck there with Kym? The sister of the first man he ever saw die?

Close to breaking, come undone, eyes glazed and hunched over the sketch he had drawn; that’s how Lauren found him.

__________

Kieran stepped out of the door, locking it behind him. One of the last things that he wanted to do was to talk to somebody after the resurfacing of _that_ memory. Even more so, the absolute last thing he wanted to do was face Lauren’s enraged stare and answer her questions.

Had she seen the room? It wasn’t like her to actually _listen_ to him. How long had she been there? When the hell was it that he got so careless? Lauren was busy glaring holes in the front door. Mustering his usual suave attitude, he cleared his throat, 'Well?'

Lauren turned to look at him then. She muttered, _'I almost want to lie.'_ She would have lied if his pretense of calm had fooled her. It hadn’t. She was still holding the knife.

Half of her worn out mind wanted to throw it right back at him. Following the part that still remained pensive instead, she moved to the couch, sitting upon it as if it was a throne of thorns, placing the knife beside her. Back turned to him, she said, 'You didn't seem like yourself. Earlier at the precinct.' If he chose to mock her, she could always kill him for being a prick later, right? She whispered, 'I was worried.'

It was a good thing her back was turned, for if it wasn’t, Kieran White would never have been able to live with himself with Lauren _knowing_ how she rendered him speechless. He seemed to be hearing things. When a minute passed and Lauren didn’t say a single word more, he knew she really had said just that. It wasn’t just the air playing tricks on his ears. If even Lauren could be worried for him, then he wasn’t doing as good a job of pretending as he thought. Foregoing lying to the lie detector, he instead chose to see the knife on the couch as a sign of truce. He sighed, relaxing on the other end of the couch.

Lauren let out the breath she had been holding when Kieran sat down. He hadn’t explained himself, but he hadn’t lied either. Unrealizing, she relaxed too, some of the tension escaping her shoulders. She asked, 'Did something happen?'

It took a moment. Kieran answered, 'Nothing related to the case.'

The sound was faint. The man himself seemed faint too. All his boisterous snark seemed to have caved in on himself. A complete contrast to the narcissistic, contemptuous imbecile she had become used to seeing, it put Lauren on edge. She turned to get a glimpse of him, and turned back just as fast. He seemed to have sunk into the couch, head resting back, and eyes closed. He looked to be in pain, and yet he stayed there, silent as ever. She rested her head back into the couch too.

_The knife lay between them, more towards Lauren than Kieran._

She hated to break the silence, but she did it anyway, asking, 'And to you?'

He let the question sink in.

A minute later, he answered, 'Nothing you need to concern yourself with.'

He hadn’t lied to her once till now, and yet. A blanket of stillness stretched over them. Unlike all the ones they had had before, this one was peaceful. Hardly had he managed to deal with remembering Daniel Ladell that Lauren had showed up, throwing his world into chaos, the same way that she had ever since she showed up in his life.

It was an unlikely comfort. Even this morning he couldn’t have imagined that they would be sitting so casually next to each other. He had his eyes closed the whole time. He couldn’t bear to keep them open. The night before had been way too long for his liking. She wouldn’t have expected to be here anytime soon after everything either. But it was nice, to just sit and breathe.

From where she rested her head, she could see the cobwebs lining the corner. He never was home much. The tension from the moment she had entered the precinct finally seemed to have dissipated a little, at least to the amount that she could carry on the rest of her day with. She should leave now. 

Sitting up straight, she stated, 'We all have our demons. It's just that yours might actually kill you.’ She chanced a look at him, ‘Maybe even before _I_ get the chance.’

His usual smirk finding its way back to his face. He chuckled, 'And wouldn't you hate it?'

Getting up, she whispered, with no intentions of ever owning up to all her words from today, 'Don't let them.'

He opened his eyes then. Bunching up her coat in her arms, she turned to look at him. He looked at her with awe, a kind reverence at the same time as an enchantment of sorts. She quirked an eyebrow, and he chuckled. Taking in a deep breath, he got up. Pointing to the kitchenette, he asked, 'Tea?'

She turned to the door, 'No, I should be getting home. See you later at the bridge. If we manage time, maybe we could check out the docks tonight as well.'

Kieran nodded, turning to bid her goodbye, his stupid persona back in place. Some of Lauren’s irritation came back with it. Her impassive gaze shifted to annoyance. Hand on the handle, she turned around, ‘Oh, and _lock_ your door next –‘

Her impassive gaze shifted to annoyance and _then_ to horror.

Looking back at him, and finally seeing him whole, she gasped, ‘Kieran you’re bleeding!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo!! All aboard the ‘Kieran is an idiot’ train!!!
> 
> This. This is the exact scene why I started this fic. I remember writing the dialogues for this scene hoping to turn it into a 3-chapter fic. But then I thought, what if –  
> *adds plot*
> 
> I would be a total meanie if I stopped the fic here and so I won’t. And also because my entire plot is crystal clear and I’m already 19 chapters into the dialogues. This is so damn self-indulgent and I am far too invested in the psychological damage stats that I can headcanon for Kieran lol. Also, sorry not sorry if you wanted Daniel to have died at Kieran’s hands. I don’t think it could have happened cause Kieran was 14 at the time??? Plus, adding in this angle is even more angsty.
> 
> I told you I love him but I love angst more *evil laugh* and I am excited to see how far my brain will guide me. 
> 
> Song: Broken by Anson Seabra 
> 
> Hope you like the chapter!!! Oh, and the knife thing is . . . well, you’ll find out for sure ;)
> 
> Love, Peace.


	6. It's only this moment don't care what comes after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *smirks* Finally our dear clowns are in the circus where they belong lol

The walk to Nightingale Park was a long one for Kieran. That’s where Redcliff’s Circus Royale had put up their tents for the time being. He sat on a bench at some distance from the park, waiting for Lauren. Looking at his watch, he sighed. This morning had been too close of a call. If he was to stay true to at least one thing in his life, it had to be his vendetta. If he was to stay true to his vendetta, he had to stay sane.

Thankfully, Lauren didn’t prod much about his wound, and left fairly quickly. Before his thoughts could run a mile a minute, he saw her round the corner. Dusting off his pant legs, he walked over to her with a charming smile, ‘Ready, Officer?’

She mirrored his smile. They were in public. She whispered, ‘As ready as I could be.’ Looking for the whole world, too enamored with each other, they walked closely, uncovering their aces in hushed whispers. Lauren eyed him warily, ‘What about _you_? No blood pooling on your shirt or anything?’

Kieran chuckled, ‘As amusing as it has the potential to be, no.’ They were on better terms since the Camelia, and the morning as well, unspoken apologies accepted along with the one he spoke out loud, he hoped. Even after her insistence that they could go to the circus a few days later, Kieran hadn’t budged.

Her annoyance palpable in her tone, she asked, ‘So, what _exactly_ do you want to investigate?’Something in her tone conveyed the message loud and clear. No improvising, no causing a ruckus, simply investigating and leaving.

Kieran held out his hand for her to hold, ‘The circus ticket in Flemmings’ pocket wasn’t random. I think we might find another associate here.’ Showing their tickets at the counter, they entered the park, ‘Or at least somebody suspicious enough.’

The park was filled to the brim, despite the chill of the weather, and it being an open space. Lauren understood the appeal. Vines of bright lights turning up the warmth of the atmosphere, sounds of joy filling the air as people dawdled at different booths, and lastly the gasps of amusement at the theatrics of the Circus Royale. They had brilliant skills if one wanted to use them as such for sinister deeds.

Lauren turned to Kieran, ‘How many of your co-workers _do_ you know? Do you think you’d recognize any?’

Eyes searching, Kieran looked around. Finally, they seemed to settle on the stage as the show began, ‘I’d hope so. Otherwise this would be a waste.’

The show began then. Seats had been provided for the viewers; however, they could barely stay still on their seats as act after act caught their attention, and held it. The show began with the acrobats of the group, leading onto aerobics and archery. It was mesmerizing indeed. The prowess of the athletes was far greater than average but Lauren could hardly keep her eyes on the dazzling pomp and show. Her eyes flew around the open space, widening in horror, as they landed on familiar red scarring.

Lauren turned around abruptly, pulling Kieran to her side. It was a good thing that most of the crowd was standing and moving around. At the dubiety on Kieran’s face, she said, ‘Sake is here, with Davenport no less.’

Not even bothering to check for the untoward head of pink hair, he turned to Lauren, ‘And now, both of us have to hide. They may be unaware, but it wouldn’t take them long to put two and two together.’

Lauren pulled on his arm gently, mindful of his injuries, leading him to the back, ‘Blend with the crowd at the back. Let’s go.’

__________

‘I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.’

Dakan turned around to face the source of the voice. The stress of the past few weeks instantly left his body upon seeing a welcome face. He smiled, ‘Is that a possibility for me?’

Tristan Sinclair stood near the palace gate, leaning on the wall, waiting. He straightened up to greet his friend. He joked, ‘Well, then, you haven’t forgotten about the party on New Year’s either, right?’

Dakan waved off his concern, ‘Of course, I haven’t. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

His face turned serious as he led Tristan to the long path outside the palace that they would always walk. They walked far from peering eyes and ears belonging to tattlers. The path was obscured by the greater trees of the alcove. Here, one could truly feel at peace with nature. The path led to a small pond. They both stopped at the pond. Making sure that there were no other dispensable listeners around, Tristan asked, ‘But I’m afraid you called me here to discuss things of a rather _grim_ nature?’

Dakan turned to him at that, face drowning in guilt. If he had the choice, he would be anywhere but here, discussing this. They both would be. He spoke softly, ‘I’m afraid so. As you know, the plans for the 17th.’

Taking off his spectacles, Tristan nodded. He had an inkling of what Dakan had asked him here for. ‘Does Philip know?’, he asked. He knew the answer to that as well, and yet he couldn’t help but ask, hoping for an answer that might soothe his nerves a little.

Dakan shook his head. ‘Beth,’ he paused, ‘she wants to protect him from all this.’

Tristan frowned. As dedicated as he was to the monarchy, this was a losing battle. He ran a hand over his face, ‘I understand the guilt he harbors but so do we –‘

Dakan smiled sadly at him, ‘I’m afraid, old friend, you know better than I do.’

They both did know. No one had taken the Allendale tragedy quite as much at heart as Philip had. He held himself responsible not just for the tragedy but for Edward’s death as well. He _was_ the one responsible for Edward’s death. Playing this game with the Scythe was getting harder with each passing day.

Dakan turned to the pond, ‘It’s been ten years, and yet we are puppets at the hands of the leader.’

Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, Tristan reassured him, ‘I know you never meant for this to happen.’ Then, he continued, ‘Honestly, I’m just glad you still trust me.’

Dakan scoffed at that, ‘How could I not?’ After Rachel and Alexander’s deaths, trust was all they really had. It was still a tough topic for them to breach. They themselves had only found out a few years ago. The Sinclairs did not die in an accident.

It had been a rough day, and when Tristan had come home, he had come back too late, hoping that Little Lauren would be asleep. She wasn’t. It had taken a lot of effort on his part to not let Lauren get suspicious. She was still up preparing for her exam, ready to realize her dreams and enter the police academy. It was one of the few days where they shared the same space and barely said a word. If Lauren had noticed something, she, God bless her, hadn’t asked Tristan about it.

Breathing out the dust of the memory, he began, ‘I was able to gather more data on VII. Apparently, he has been exporting suspicious materials into the city. Not just weapons.’

Dakan crossed his arms, ‘And you think it could have something to do with Redcliff’s ball?’

Tristan nodded. ‘I would try to find out more, but some of my best men have turned up dead in Greychapel in the past five years.’

There is no winning against the leader. He himself may be hiding behind a mask, but the people he meddled with were at his mercy. Even then, it was Tristan’s duty _and_ burden to still find men willing to investigate the leader. It was now Dakan’s turn to provide reassurance, ‘Spies in the Scythe barely last.’

Tristan gritted, ‘Not all of them.’ Most of them ended up dead, and the ones who survived, only survived because they joined the leader. The only way to get close to the leader was to keep on doing his bidding.

Tristan put on his spectacles again, ‘Ten years and we are still no closer to getting rid of this evil.’

Dakan mused, ‘But if the leader is acting up now, it might just be a chance for us.’

They began their walk back to the palace. The icy cold of winter only seemed to be sharpening its claws as the days fled past. Once they were close to the end of the path, Tristan asked, ‘What else did you want to talk about?’

‘Lauren. Do you know who she is dating?’ Dakan asked.

Ah, the archivist. Tristan replied, ‘I do.’

A beat passed, Dakan turned to face him, ‘And how are you handling that?’

Tristan smirked. Amusement evident, he answered, ‘I have my moments of doubt to be honest, after all she will always be a child to me. But I trust her.’ He turned to regard Dakan’s solemn expression, ‘Why? I have to warn you if you are planning on turning the party into an interrogation. She doesn’t want to introduce him yet.’

Dakan rubbed his hands, promptly hiding them in the folds of his coat. It was a clear fact, so he stated it as one, ‘She has always been smarter for her age. She made it this far.’

Tristan agreed, ‘She will be alright’, before adding, ‘Hawkes will be at the party too.’

Of course, he would be. Stefan Hawkes had been their ally for as long as they could remember. Recent circumstances, however, had changed things too vastly. Dakan couldn’t help but ask, ‘Do you think he would be any help?’ He had barely had time for his goddaughter. It would be safe to say that the Scythe had taken up all and any time he had to offer, so it had been a while since he last met Stefan.

Tristan shrugged, ‘Given Jo’s condition, I highly doubt it.’ Josephine hadn’t been fine for just as long now. It was one of the reasons, if not the main reason why Hawkes chose to do what he did. They lapsed into another bout of silence.

As they neared the palace, the guards, and therefore, by extension, shifty eyes and unreliable ears began to close in on them as well. Tristan held Dakan back by the arm. The storm of his eyes matched the vigor of his words, ‘I have my suspicions, but I think it might be Redcliff. He’s the only one left, and Margery hasn’t been around for the past two years. Well, she hasn’t _checked in_ and I doubt anything but death could stop her.’ 

Dakan looked at him, the same storm gaining strength in his eyes, ‘Ten years is too long of a time. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen Timothee die right in front of my eyes, I would have altered evidence to have him incarcerated as the leader.’

Tristan scoffed, ‘I’d reprimand you for saying that as the Chief if I didn’t agree with you.’

Dakan took out a watch from his pocket. Turning to the palace, he looked back one last time, ‘You know how worried I’ve been that Lauren would end up like Alexander, but _now_ I feel that Lauren deserves to know the truth. All of it.’

It had barely been a few nights since Tristan saw her updated board, now holding documents she wasn’t even supposed to have in the first place. Penitence etched into every single line on his face, Tristan voiced what they both knew, ‘She will hate us for it.’ A forlorn expression crossed his face.

Dakan replied, ‘And it would be well deserved on our part.’ In lieu of a goodbye, he let the silence linger a moment before they both left.

__________

Running away from where Sake and Davenport stood, they had managed to find themselves in the web of the supply tents. Kieran cried out, ‘This was a waste too!’

Lauren was calm compared to him, a rarity in their nightly excursions. She shrugged, ‘Well, one more wrong option that we don’t have to check anymore.’

Kieran wasn’t convinced. If Belladona was here with Sake, there was something shady going on at the circus. That’s not what he told Lauren, though. Last night, he had also found out that Belladona was supposed to get rid of the officer that had managed to corner Sake. He would have hoped it to be someone else if he didn’t recognize the stubbornness that Belladona talked about. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?

Instead, the words that escaped him were, ‘I’m keeping tabs on the activity at the docks. There has been suspicious activity. Well, _more_ suspicious than usual. Vessels being unloaded in the dead of night, and under heavily guarded transport.’ He had Lauren’s full attention now. He continued, ‘The weird thing is that they –‘

A shuffling beside the tent caught his attention. He placed himself between the officer and the slope of the tent. If Belladona had seen them, she could try but he wouldn’t let anything happen to Lauren. He waved his hand behind him, signaling Lauren to take position. He muttered, ‘You don’t happen to have your gun on you, Officer?’

She huffed in dismissal, ‘Unfortunately.’ Taking position with her back to Kieran’s, she asked, ‘Where even are we?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, were you expecting a fluffy piece with Lauren bandaging Kieran and emotional parallels?? 
> 
> Anyways, here is the introduction of the circus and the part about is definitely not short because _I don’t yet know how to write theatrics well_ and definitely not because _I don’t like circus tricks well enough to write them with awe_ or anything or *skips through notecards* and other reasons you know? *nervous laughter* ITS BECAUse Lauren isn’t watching the circus, you know? And it’s from her point of view? That makes total sense. 
> 
> Plots will only get thicker now on. 
> 
> Song: The Greatest Show to balance the Circus Royale absence in my writing lol, also it is very Athena-esque if you consider the way I'll be writing Athena 
> 
> Love, Peace.


	7. I am aching now to let you in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally exiting the room, he moved through the hall, only to find his father waiting for him. He turned around at the sound of footsteps, ‘Oh, William, finally.’ Turning to regard him now, he said, ‘I’ve been waiting for you, son.’ 

As they parted ways after patrol, the day’s events and realizations only weighed them both down. The work was enough to keep Will’s mind occupied but not enough to let the thought of the Scythe get too far from his reach, lest he forget the reason why he is still working hard with all his might, and the reason why it seemed like the most natural thing to agree with Kym. The day passed by in a blur of work and wonder. Finally, it was time to leave and leave he did, rather promptly. He had a family dinner to attend. He and Kym still had to decide on _how_ to get the files on Lune’s convicts. It was a mess.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wondered if he would die investigating the Scythe first or lose his position as Lieutenant before that. Either way, his father wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic no matter which of the two chose him. It’s not that he had time either. He was supposed to be home for dinner. Buttoning up for the weather, he looked around the office failing to find Kym. She must be somewhere else.

Looking at his watch, he wondered if he should wait to see Kym before leaving. Maybe she had already gone home. Their rebellious plans will have to wait for tomorrow. Promising himself to put his focus on the Scythe’s plans, he left for the Hawkes Mansion.

Being home was bittersweet. As much as he would like to be home for his mother’s sake, he knew he needed to be away from this old place for his own sanity. It was troublesome. The journey back from the precinct had been nothing but an amalgamation of all his worst fears being whatever a guiding light is not supposed to be, recklessly abandoning him to the worst of his anxieties. He reached home.

Shrugging off his worries and the snow on his coat, he went inside. He travelled to the end of the hallway, to his mother’s room. Everyone else might think that it was good for him to be home so often, but how could it be so, when every single time that he looked at his mother, his heart broke into pieces, even more than it already had. He entered the room, bracing himself. He turned to shut the door.

‘Is that you Stefan?’

Turning on the charade of a smile, he replied, ‘No, mother. It’s me, William.’ He went ahead, moving to sit on the bed.

Light shone from the window, making her pale hue turn orange in the dying light of the sun. She looked even more fragile than she really was. Arms thinned out to lanky bones, and the form of the woman that he had always known, lost to an untraceable evil. Despite the pain, she must evidently be in, she smiled, ‘Ah, my dear boy! I’m so glad to see you, my son. It’s been so long.’

The light of the sun seemed to have found its way into her eyes before it set. Or maybe it was just the plain, simple joy of being able to see her child. She moved her hand. William promptly took it in his own. The only thing about her that seemed to never change was the light in her eyes whenever she looked at William. Be it five years ago or now. Tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, ‘I’m happy you’re home.’

It was like that every time. Every time that she would notice him, she would tell him how happy she was to see him after so long. William rubbed her hand, ‘How have you been feeling? Did Anna read you the books I brought you?’

Her smile grew, ‘Ah, yes, my dear. You are always so considerate.’

It wasn’t a very subtle dismissal of William’s question. William noted that, and let it go. When William was just a kid, his parents would fight a lot. One time, he remembered waking up to the sound of crying. He went to check, only to find his mother sobbing on her bed. He remembers noticing her by the edge of the open door. He, then, went in calling after her, and to this day, he does not quite know how his mother had changed her expression into a sweet smile in the few seconds it took for his tiny feet to reach her.

The same smile that he could probably sketch from memory at this point. The same smile she always gave him when he asked if things were okay between her and his dad. The same smile she gave him when she told him to focus on the precinct instead of staying home with her. The same smile she gives him when he asks about her health. She never let someone else worry for her. That hadn’t changed in so long either.

She cupped his hand, now, avoiding his gaze. ‘You always try so hard, my son,’ she said, then whispered, ‘you know I only need to see _you_ , right?’

He knew that. He tightened his grip, reassuring silence in calamity, ‘Yes, mother.’

Changing the topic then, she asked, ‘Where is your father, Will? I haven’t seen him in so long.’

He lied, ‘He hasn’t been home lately. Work keeps him busy.’

She laughed that off, ‘Of course, your father is _always_ so busy.’

Josephine’s illness hadn’t been easy on any of them. Despite what they both had gone through; it was Stefan Hawkes who broke first. Despite their differences and the long hours of his youth that he had invested into his job over his family, he loved her dearly. Having to watch Josephine spiral into a worse condition as time passed, took a great toll on him. Proud man that he was, he would never admit it, and yet each time that he was to see Josephine, he _lingered_ by the door for an even longer time than he spent _inside_ the room. With time, he faded into the background and lingered only in his study when he was home. It wouldn’t even have mattered to Josephine anyway. She could hardly remember the man he had become.

After a minute, her hand began to tremble in William’s. She asked, ‘Will you be staying by my side all night again?’

William shook his head, ‘I came to wish you good night.’

She relaxed into her bed, ‘Ah, good night then, my son. Your mother loves you dearly.’

William kissed her on the forehead. It was never easy to leave her. Deciding to stay with her until she fell asleep, as he always did, he whispered, ‘Sleep well, mother.’

Her grip on William’s hand slackened after a while. William got up, readying himself to go. The moon had begun to shine now. He opened the door as quietly as he could, but Josephine stirred. She looked at his shadow, moving under the light of the moon, ‘William? Is that you?’

He stilled. He turned around, cheerily, ‘Good evening, mother.’

She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She smiled, ‘It’s been so long, my son.’

_That’s how it had been for over a year now. The reason why Stefan could never bring himself to face Josephine, lest he break. The doctor had said that it would be best to indulge the lapses in her memory. They must pretend that everything was fine. He must pretend that everything was fine._

Finally exiting the room, he moved through the hall, only to find his father waiting for him. He turned around at the sound of footsteps, ‘Oh, William, finally.’ Turning to regard him now, he said, ‘I’ve been waiting for you, son.’ 

__________

Spinning her knife between her fingers Belladona pondered, ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are far too involved with that _Detective_.’

She was beginning to grow frustrated. Tim Sake was getting to be more of a problem than she thought. To get Sinclair out of the picture was _her_ assignment, and Timmy was turning out to be _quite_ incompetent. Why does the Apostle even trust him given his _tendencies_?

Timmy turned cagey eyes, from one end of the crowd to another, ‘She’s an officer now as she got demoted’, he turned to glare at the assassin, ‘and no, I _am not_!’ They were hiding behind one of the tents facing the open park, much to Belladona’s dismay.

 _Deep breath, you can’t kill him yet_ , she thought. She huffed, ‘We haven’t been able to _find_ her yet.’ Timmy had been rather fixated on the officer for a while. She had half a mind to kill them both and frame Tim Sake for her death. Rolling her eyes, pointing to herself, she said, ‘ _I_ haven’t been able to find her yet _if_ she’s here.’ She hoped her grimace would be enough of a clue for him.

Affronted, he bit back, ‘Are you saying I’m a _liar_? Are you implying I’m starting to see things?’ A vein popped as rage engulfed his face.

All show of ease left Belladona’s face, as it morphed into a more sinister thing, befitting of one of the deadliest assassins of the Scythe. She cornered him, ‘Are you doubting _my_ credibility? That I can’t find someone I have _already_ once had within killing distance?’

Tim Sake was a mad man. He was incompetent at times, letting his ego get the best of him, but he wasn’t entirely stupid to provoke the snake, no matter how much her attitude irked him. Belladona tickled his neck with her blade. Ending up at his jugular, she pressed the blade hard. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to have him scared for his life. She drawled, ‘Timmy _dear_ , you keep forgetting. I’m not the _dispensable_ one.’

He stood there, breathing slowly, out of fear that the blade just might pierce his skin if he moved. It would have pierced his skin if he had moved. Satisfied with the fear in his eyes, Belladona stepped back, ‘The Apostle will always have use for me. You, on the other hand?’ She chuckled, placing her knife back. Walking back to the crowd, she looked at him over her shoulder.

Timmy eyed her retreating form, silently agreeing, ‘Coming here was a bust anyhow. Let’s go back.’ He caught up with her.

An amused smile on her face, she teased him, ‘I’m surprised you didn’t say that sooner.’

He shrugged, ‘Redcliff has always been tough. Guess I expected the Messenger’s plan to work.’

__________

‘Good evening, father.’ As much as William was dreading to be in the same room as his father, he couldn’t avoid it. Lately, he had been home more for his mother’s sake. It also meant he was more likely to face his father as well. It would’ve been fine by him if facing his father every single day _wasn’t_ a whole new fight in itself. As if he didn’t already have enough on his plate, without his father’s disappointment and expectations to add onto it.

Stefan turned his chin, silently pointing to Will to follow him. Facing the end of the long hallway, he said, ‘Did you see your mother first? You have always been your mother’s boy.’

His father looked stiffer than usual. His memory unraveled a reminder. He asked, ‘The doctor visited today? What did he say? Is she getting better?’

His father stopped at the end of the hallway. Still refusing to meet William’s gaze, he admitted, almost as if it was his own fault, ‘ _I’m afraid not_.’

Will deflated, ‘It’s been so long. It’s been _years_ and yet, still no explanation.’

His father then turned to look at him, ‘She’s been seen by the city’s _finest_.’ Then begrudgingly, he added, ‘What is to happen _must_ happen.’

How could he say that? Will _knows_ that she’s not getting better. He can _see_ that too, but how can he give up? Hands gripping over thin air, wanting to hold it as it was, but here’s the thing, by the mere need to hold it in his palms he was changing what it used to be. It would never be the same again. Hands clenching in thin air at his sides, he admitted, ‘ _I don’t want to let her go_.’

Looking back at his father, he saw a shine to his eyes, that he had never seen so clearly before. Love? No, it was much paler and more transient. Pity. Stefan leaned on the stick in his hands. ‘I _know_ , William. You have always been your mother’s son.’ He never bent down, and yet he was looking at William’s bowed down eyes. He waited until William looked up. He held his gaze, making sure every word passed through to his head, ‘With each passing day, there is a chance that she may _never_ recover. We _have_ to accept that.’

_We have to accept that._

_You have to accept that._

_I have to accept that._

_Was it easy to let go? He has to accept that? As if it wasn’t his mother’s impending death, but a trivial matter? As if it was a tree that has survived past its age and had to be cut down? As if it wasn’t a living, walking human being that used to be so full of life? As if it wasn’t the person he loved most? How could Stefan say it as if it was, for all he cared, some pet? As if it was someone or rather something inconsequential?_

All the rage and hurt bubbling under his skin, he tried and nearly failed to mask. Something broke in him. His father continued, straight-faced, ‘It pains me to keep reminding you. However, it is the truth, son.’

He shut his eyes.

To see his father, give up on his mother over the years wasn’t hard. He could always pretend that Stefan was too busy, like his mother did. But to hear him say those words, out loud? He tried to school his expression. He could fight Stefan on this for all his life and it still wouldn’t change a thing.

Stefan looked at his watch, ‘Well, you’re just in time for dinner.’

Rage seeping out as indifference, he blurted, surprising Stefan, ‘I don’t have time for this.’ To be honest, he surprised himself as well. Why did he say that? Why did he say that out loud? Taking in Stefan’s questioning stare, he explained, ‘I’m afraid, I can’t join you. I have my duties as Lieutenant to look after.’

Surprisingly, the lie rolled off of his tongue with ease. Upon hearing that, Stefan’s distaste faded away. He seemed content, ‘Is that so?’

He knew why he had said that. Braving another lie, he went ahead to grab his coat, ‘I only came by to check on mother. I still have to catch _Lune_.’ Hook, line and sinker.

Stefan wouldn’t ask another question if he mentioned Lune. William knew where he needed to be. Finally getting to see ambition in his son’s actions, Stefan looked pleased, ‘Ah, yes, of course. You _must_ find Lune to get promoted to Colonel.’ As he had expected, it worked to throw his father off of his case regarding dinner, and onto another. Stefan directed him, ‘You _must_ redouble your efforts. I will _not_ have Hermann question your integrity.’

Putting his coat back on, he agreed, ‘Yes, father.’ He should be redoubling his efforts, but not for _catching_ Lune. He had already made a promise. _Her words echoed in his head._

His father stepped forward to fix his collar. Smoothening the pads of his shoulder, Stefan stepped back, ‘You should be leaving then.’

William stepped away, heading towards the main door, whispering, ‘Yes, yes I should be.’

_After all, Soleil has work to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SATISFIED WITH THIS CHAPTER!!!!!
> 
>   1. Writing Will is tough cause he’s such a cute, soft boi and I want him to be a little happy so as you can see, he’s lying to his crocodile dad, skipping on dinner dates, no talk of any actual marriage-shmarriage or anything
>   2. I have some plans so obviously Will’s mother is in a bad position but we don’t know how long she has, and sorry no Apo- I mean, no _Rafael_ in this fic cause I plotted it _so_ in advance that acknowledging Rafael’s existence will ruin things
>   3. I’ll TRY to make Stefan Hawkes less of a horrible person but he’ll still be a prick because of course, he’d be *shrugs*
> 

> 
> Now that we’ve had some backstory on Will as well, you know who to expect next, right? Right?
> 
> Oh, and I’m still wrapping up the first day in the fic, isn’t it weird?
> 
> I’m thinking of turning it into a verse with the events of each day into one work? Would that be fine? I think that might be
> 
> Let me know what you think?
> 
> Song: Hurricane by Fleurie Will’s POV
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> Love, Peace.


	8. Heard your voice in my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fell to the ground, turning to look at his assailant. He laughed a little despite the pain. Of course. Who else could it have been?

At the end of a long, tiresome day of work, there are only two things Kym needs the most. Firstly, to let out some stress at the shooting range, and secondly, to go home to her family, and maybe curl up with a good book on the couch. There were rarely times when she acted as anything but a firecracker of mischief and yet, bursting out and having everyone else around her burst out into the goofiest grins wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Especially when that someone was Will.

Seven perfect shots hit right in the middle of the target. Again.

Sometimes it seemed that it would take breaking apart for William to truly be free. There was undoubtedly quite a lot on his mind. Placing her gun back in her holster, she reached for her coat draping it over her shoulders as she exited the gun range. Lune was inactive, and the Scythe probably had horrible, terrible, no-good-at-all plans. The best thing to do would be to get files on the Tower massacre from the archives.

Push comes to shove; she would _have_ to look over the IU’s files. She entered the building, wondering if asking Detective March for files on Lune’s convicts would be just a bad idea or a very horrible idea. She paused in the hallway, properly putting on her coat. It would have to be a stealth mission. Oh, it will be a pain to get William ‘Precinct Prince’ Hawkes to do something unlawful.

Maybe she could just ask Lauren for help. Maybe she could also admit to Lauren that she already knows about her being Lune. That would be much easier and probably more fruitful than convincing Will to steal files. But then again, he _did_ surprise her. She made a mental note to check if her beloved Lieutenant was still in the office. She was hoping that this new change in William was here to stay. She reached for the office door, already plastering on one of her goofiest grins.

She opened the door, only to be greeted by an empty office, not a soul to be seen. Of course, it was. Looking back, William _might_ have mentioned something about a family dinner. The windows outside showed the time to be midnight, and the precinct clock showed it to be around eight. Of course, he must have left early as well. No one stays in the office after seven anyway. She began to walk out of the precinct.

Wait. _No one stays in the office after seven anyway_.

Looking at the stairs, she bit her lip. On one hand, she could do it, but on the other, what happens if the guards see her? Her eyes darted from the stairs to the end of the hallway, the eerie silence of the building only chanting at her to make the impulsive decision. Worrying her chin with her hand, she deliberated, thinking up good excuses for her to be in the office of the Investigation Unit.

 _Ah, fuck that!_ She’ll figure out an excuse _if_ and _when_ she gets caught.

Stealthily, she went up the stairs. Unlocking the door wasn’t exactly a problem for her. Thankfully, none of the guards were in the hallway, and no one saw her get in. Taking out her flashlight, she locked the door back again, covering her tracks in case someone grew suspicious at the sight of the open door. ‘ _Flashlights_ are a must have item, _Willame_ ,’ she muttered to the empty room.

It was this easy to break into the IU? No wonder the Scythe wasn’t scared of the police. The memory of finding Harvey in the supply closet came to her. She shook her head. Not _here_. Not _now_. She had a job to do.

Walking into the room, the first thing that caught her attention was the board. Lune’s convicts and the Purple Hyacinth’s kills on either side, with only four strings joining in the middle over month old photographs. Blakesley, Anslow, McTrevor and Colden. Shining the light around, she tried to guess where to take the files from, March’s desk or Cooper’s desk. _One watermelon, two watermelons._ March’s desk it is. She walked over to the end of the room, towards the detective’s desk. If she didn’t get caught, she practically had the entire night to look them over.

A shuffling outside caught her ears. A shadow passed over the windows, stopping at the doorframe. Someone was opening the door now. _Damnit_. She had jinxed her successful intrusion. Sullen, she readied her list of excuses, except that none of them could work because she had locked the door from the _inside_. She prepared herself to struggle her way out of this rightfully suspicious situation. Oh, wait, was the window unlocked? She could jump out of the window if all else failed.

She ran to the window when the door opened. Only used to jumping out of first floor windows, she hesitated. Ah, a first time for everything, right? Freezing halfway, one leg out and ready to jump, she relaxed, when she saw the last person she was expecting to see. She breathed out, ‘You scared me! What are you doing here?’

William Hawkes stood at the door, illuminated by the hallway lights, with pins in his hand, bent from picking the door. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Apprehensive of the hurricane in human form in front of him, he questioned, ‘You would’ve jumped out of the window? Why am I not surprised?’

She jumped down, dusting off her pants. Eyeing him warily, she said, ‘But _I_ am. Did you just break into the IU?’

He shrugged, taking out a torch of his own. Looking at Kym, he drawled, ‘You seem to be needing help.’

Kym hummed, ‘So, apparently, I’m doing the same thing you are.’ William looked amused. Kym smiled. Beaming like a kid on a sugar-craze, she shone a light over March’s desk, ‘Let’s steal some files and put an end to the Scythe.’ Will slapped a hand over his face.

__________

‘Redcliff’s jesters will not give in to intimidation.’

Belladona sat down in front of the Messenger. He sneered at her, ‘This is _all_ you had to report. I have to say I’m disappointed, Davenport.’

Belladona rolled her eyes, ‘Timmy thought he could convince the Circus Royale to fight for him, but they won’t budge.’

The Messenger’s tone became one of patronizing, ‘Of course, they won’t. The Apostle knows that.’

Belladona was confused to say the least. She demanded, ‘Then, _why_ did you let us go there to convince them?’

The Messenger got up, answering a question he wasn’t supposed to, ‘For evidence.’ He turned to look at her, ‘It is not for _you_ to worry about. Keep an eye on them.’

Relentlessly, Belladona carried on, ‘If Redcliff’s idiots will not help us, and Redcliff already –‘

The Messenger scowled. Venom in his voice, he spit out every single word, ‘I _already_ told you. It is not for _you_ to worry about. Do what you are being _paid_ to do.’

Blood coursing through her veins at that blow, she unsheathed her knife meaning to attack him. He easily outmaneuvered her, trapping her against the side of the wall, with _her_ knife on her neck. He swiped the knife on her skin, ‘You forget. You may be one of the scariest assassins in the Scythe, but you are no one to be attacking me.’

Then, he promptly threw the knife away, releasing his hold on Belladona. ‘What _did_ you think would happen? You would _kill_ a Messenger and get away? You are _not_ the Hyacinth.’ Running to wipe her neck, she was at a loss of not only words but a will to fight her war as well. The Messenger warned her lastly, ‘Do your job, or _I_ will be doing mine.’ He walked out then, leaving Belladona to her devices, wounded more in pride than body. 

__________

‘I found the files,’ William waved the folders in front of Kym.

She hummed, grabbing those folders and placing them back. Before Will could say anything, she explained, ‘If _files_ go missing, Hermann is going to be livid.’ She plucked out random pages. Then, she moved on to practically every detective’s desk.

Understanding dawned over Will, ‘If _few pages_ from every file go missing, it’ll take them a while before they notice.’

Kym grinned, ‘Great observational skills, my dear Lieutenant.’

Moving to March’s desk, she placed all the pages on it, grouping them into four stacks. Pleased with her work, she turned to Will who had now obtained two free folders. They worked to secure the files. The papers on Anslow and McTrevor in one file and those on Blakesley and Colden in another.

Loud voices from outside caught their attention. Kym grabbed Will’s hand, dragging him under the desk along with the files. Will rolled his eyes, ‘Now, you can remember to hide under the desk?’ Kym pouted at him, whatever retort she had cut off by the creaking of the door.

‘And they pride themselves on their work,’ one of the guards called out to his partner, ‘they left the door open again.’

His partner answered back, ‘Ah, well, just leave it. Could be that someone still has work here?’

They sat hunched under the desk, files trapped between the two, pages begging to fall to the ground. As footsteps grew closer to March’s desk, Will and Kym looked at each other, a silent conversation being carried out in their eyes.

_‘What if he checks here?’  
‘He’ll leave.’  
‘How can you know?’   
‘Well, then, you better pray he leaves!’_

‘Guess you’re right,’ the guard stepped back. Another sound of the door shutting and then the footsteps receded.

Will breathed out a sigh of relief, coming out from under the desk, offering his hand to Kym. She took it, standing up right next to him. ‘Well, then,’ she chuckled, ‘I guess we’ll need a change of space.’ She punched Will on the shoulder, ‘Good thing you have an apartment and you live alone.’ She grabbed the files, dedication written all over her face. Moving to the window, Kym shot back over her shoulder, ‘Come on, partner! _Soleil_ has work to do.’

Will hardly managed to drag Kym back to the door, ‘ _Not_ the window.’

__________

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say we are trapped.’

They had been walking in circles, in this labyrinth of tents. Kieran huffed, ‘We _are_ trapped.’

On the verge of tearing either her or Kieran’s hair out, she grimaced, ‘ _How_? It is a just a park. A _park!_ There _must_ be a way out.’ She looked around at the wall of tents that seemed to have engulfed them whole. No sound could be heard, that would give them the indication of an exit. ‘Who even needs this many tents?’, she wondered out loud.

Kieran turned to one of the tents with a light emanating from the inside, ‘Evidently these people.’ He asked Lauren pointing to the tent, ‘Do you think we could find a way _out_ by going _in_?’

She shrugged, ‘Wouldn’t hurt to try.’

Waving her off to stay behind, he went inside the tent. It was a simple tent, with just a few supplies scattered around. Nothing of importance. He shot back over his shoulder and paused upon hearing a loud thud. ‘Lauren?’, he called out to her. Before he could turn around, something crashed over the side of his neck. He fell to the ground, turning to look at his assailant. He laughed a little despite the pain. Of course. Who else could it have been? Another blow to the head, and he collapsed.

Having done his job, Herakles turned to the lady, clad in black. She bowed exaggeratingly, ‘Thank you, Herakles. Oh, I won’t be needing your help, Morpheus.’ she waved Morpheus off. ‘Could you leave me alone with the unsuspecting intruders?’, she shooed them out of the tent.

Turning to the intruders tied up in front of her, Athena whispered in the wind, ‘I’d rather they didn’t stay long.’

__________

A tornado of files was in the living area of William’s apartment, and at the center of it, as in case of all the other jovial tornadoes in his life, was Sergeant Kym Ladell. ‘Hey, look here,’ Kym pointed to the transactions in Anslow’s files. ‘They all are merchants. Now, why would the Scythe need merchants on their payroll?’, she prodded Will.

The answer was obvious, ‘Illegal imports.’

Her eyes sparkled, ‘Exactly! But why would they? Aren’t the docks under constant vigilance since Allendale? And on top of that by the Royal Navy?’

Will looked up from the bank statements he was buried in. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, having divided the files between them. ‘Illegal importing is how the bombs are suspected to have been obtained for Allendale. There’s no chance that the Scythe could still manage to get weapons by.’

Kym shot her eyebrows up, a teacher aching for her disciple to come to the right conclusion, to prove the hypothesis, only because she knows that he can. Will’s entire posture deflated upon the realization, the pencil in his hand dropping to the side, ‘Unless they have infiltrated the castle as well. How are we supposed to stop the Scythe now?’

Kym took over his stack of papers. Droning into the bundle on the table, she waved another stack at him, for him to take, ‘We’ll find _something_. We _have_ to.’

He took the papers, straightening up. That’s what Kym always did; make the impossible seem plausible and the overwhelming seem tolerable. He looked at her then, head bowed over the mess of papers in her lap, tapping a pencil on her bent knee. They’ll find _something_. They _have_ to. With a renewed motivation, he settled to go over the reports in his hand. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *promises you Soft Lauki* *gives you Kywi instead*
> 
> This has been my attempt at making some of you only-Lauki-shippers realize the beauty that is Kywi ;)  
> Of course, if you still don’t ship Kywi that’s your own choice, but you know? *points at these idiots* THEY SO CUTE OML
> 
> So, this was our Kym chapter and it wasn’t even completely hers because she is still very closed off by this point in the story. _‘Her voice echoed in his head’_ from last chapter, and voila this chapter’s title is _‘Heard your voice in my head’_. I read somewhere, probably tumblr, that you won’t know what your characters are made of unless you break them… *whispers ‘foreshadowing’* *vanishes mid fic*
> 
> Song: Symmetry by Emily Warren, JT Roach
> 
> Hope you were still able to get through the chapter in spite of the inane scene changes!
> 
> Love, Peace.


	9. I dine with the blood on my hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He played on naivety, ‘Any particular reason why your minions had to ruin my date.’
> 
> She bit back, ‘Any particular reason you had to nudge your nose where it doesn’t belong?’, holding Kieran’s nose.

Kieran woke up with a start.

Athena chuckled, ‘Well, well, well. Look who we have here.’ Flinging her sword in a mocking of his moves, she sneered, ‘The Purple Hyacinth.’ Kieran tried to get up, but couldn’t. Feeling the rope tied around his hands he sat back down, taking in his surroundings. Athena leaned against the makeshift table in front of him. Lauren rested against the pole opposite to him, hands tied behind her back, and to the pole as well.

‘You know that’s not the name I prefer, _Athena_.’

Of all the people he could have been caught by, it _had_ to be Athena. He was relieved in a way, and on edge too. They didn’t exactly part on better terms the last they met. He played on naivety, ‘Any particular reason why your minions had to ruin my date.’

She bit back, ‘Any particular reason you had to nudge your nose where it doesn’t belong?’, holding Kieran’s nose.

Jerking his head back, Kieran scoffed, ‘It’s exactly where it should belong. Can’t say the same for a lot of other things.’ He eyes the royal insignia on the shoulder of her jacket.

Athena looked affronted. It was but a subtle thing, however, she noticed the way Kieran’s eyes swept over Lauren. Sensing the veiled anxiety in Kieran’s voice, she waved it off, ‘Oh, she’s _fine_. But I wonder why she had to be here?’ Lying to Athena wouldn’t be the best course of action. She wasn’t Belladona. She was smarter. Walking about the room, waving her sword around, she wondered out loud, ‘And surprisingly why she had to be here,’ turning to point the edge of her sword at Kieran, ‘with you.’

Dodging Lauren’s questions had made him even more proficient in dealing with white lies. So, he told the truth in parts, looking her straight in the eyes, ‘When you get an assignment, you don’t ask questions.’ She paused. He continued, ‘I’m playing my part.’ The smirk on Athena’s face made him want to take it all back. She would never buy his lies. She never did.

Resting against the table again, she quirked up an eyebrow at him, ‘And what part would that be,’ turning her head, ‘ _old friend_?’

Kieran rolled his eyes, ‘You know I’d answer any and all questions you have even _without_ my hands tied at the back.’

A gleam in her eyes, she shrugged, ‘Yes, but given the rampant _back-stabbing_ in the Scythe, I can’t take the risk to believe you, can I?’ Before Kieran could mock her and protest, she added, ‘Of course, your date plays a role in that too. Why is _she_ here?’ Could it be possible she knows about Redcliff’s plans? There were too many variables. She added, ‘Or maybe she came here to find out about it, because of you?’

Stop being right all the time, Athena. Kieran thought mournfully. Trying to get the attention off of Lauren, he changed the topic, ‘You’re still pissed at me about your stupid sword, aren’t you?’ He made an attempt to jest, ‘They sure gave you the wrong name, _Nemesis_.’

She carried on, walking around the room, as if she never heard him, ‘There is also the matter of Lune.’ Even she knows of Lune?

This is bad. Eyes darting around the room for any unwanted listeners, he cleared, ‘Who I’m supposed to get rid of’, he gave the same alibi he had prepared for the messenger, ‘which is why getting close to the niece of Chief Sinclair would be obviously helpful.’

A knowing smile graced her face as she walked to Lauren on the other side of the tent, as she began to stir. She looked at him over her shoulder, an amused smile on her face, ‘Looks like your partner is waking up.’

Kieran’s hands twitched. It wasn’t that Athena would dare hurt Lauren out in the city, but it was Athena after all. He said, lightly, each word enunciated clearly, ‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on her.’

Athena was crouching down to Lauren now. The smile on her face only seemed to grow more menacing, ‘Oh, is that so? Interesting.’ She smiled, making a few notes in the recesses of her mind.

Lauren was awake now. Bright hazy eyes facing Kieran, clouded in confusion, questions radiating off of her ‘Kieran?’ Before she could voice any of them or wonder how he ended up here, with his hands tied, another voice cut through the static in her eyes. Kieran looked at her now, with something she couldn’t quite point out.

Nearly as easily had Athena pranced around with confidence, she turned her expressions and her gaze to one of utmost horror, ‘My, my, how dare you infiltrate Viscount Redcliff’s circus!’

Hearing that Lauren straightened up, only to find her hands tied behind her as well. It felt like rope. Who the hell tied it so strongly? She managed to miss the utter exasperation on Kieran’s face. Surprised, a very irate _what_ escaped her. She shook her head but failed to shake off the numbness. If she kept going at this rate, she was sure to get a concussion.

Athena doubled her theatrics, ‘You!’ She pointed at both of them, finger lingering on Kieran a little longer, in indignance, ‘You are Phantom Scythe!’ Kieran rolled his eyes. There was no stopping her now. She will be having her fun and scoop of entertainment. It was going to be a long night. He nearly screamed at her, but Lauren was there. He _couldn’t_.

Looking at the exasperation on Kieran’s face, and mistaking it for vexation on being caught, Lauren protested, ‘Wait, no we aren’t!’ Trying to free herself of her bounds, she screamed, ‘I’m a police officer!’ Hands fidgeting in front of her in a mocking of nervousness, she walked to Lauren.

Kieran glared at her, ‘Don’t you dare’, hands fisting in thin air.

Lauren stared at him, wondering if she had heard him right. Kieran would have tried to get out but he did not want to enrage Athena even more. It _was_ her territory that they had intruded on. She turned to Kieran upon hearing that. Mouthing along the way, ‘Aw! You don’t want your pretty partner to get hurt, how adorable!’ She bent down to his level, sword in hand, voice now loud enough for Lauren to hear, ‘Guess then that settles it.’

Athena looked at him, a menacing, furious thing in her eyes, comparable to the fire she held in her heart. Eyes flitting between the two, and hands busy running amok over her bound wrists, Lauren stilled. This was going to be bad. She looked at Kieran, who was now avoiding her gaze. If Athena had called the police on them, it wouldn’t even have been an issue. ‘Call the police if you want to but untie us!’, Lauren screamed at Athena.

She turned to face her, ‘Why? So, you and your other friends could carry out your,’ she grimaced waving her sword around, ‘plans?’

Unfortunately, the more Lauren hesitated in answering her, the more she looked like the kind of person to dig six feet into the ground and pretend to forget about it. The sword she held definitely didn’t put Lauren at ease either. Why the hell does she even have a sword? Wasn’t she just the host? And why was Kieran not doing anything? He wasn’t even refuting the claims! Freeing herself from the rope was tough. Athena pointed the edge of her sword right at Kieran’s neck, ‘Why is the Phantom Scythe here?’ Summoning tears to her eyes, she looked at Lauren next, ‘Why are you trying to crash Viscount Redcliff’s efforts?’

This was going to be another long night. Adding the task of screaming at Kieran for _this_ to her checklist, she looked at Athena, eyes as placating as they could be, ‘I told you, I am a police officer. There is identification in my pocket and –‘

Her words were cut off by a grunt from Kieran. Athena had smashed the hilt of the sword against the side of his cheek. Lauren screamed at her, murderous glare in her eyes, ‘Get your hands off of him!’

She scoffed at Lauren, ‘And just because you are a police officer means you aren’t from the Scythe?’ She threatened Kieran again, ‘Then, why were you all the way back here?’

Kieran whispered, making sure Lauren didn’t hear him, ‘She doesn’t know, alright? She’s innocent here.’

That only made Athena gasp back in terror as if realizing something. She looked frantically between the two, seemingly connecting nonexistent dots, ‘ **Oh, you were trying to bomb it.** ’ She hit Kieran on the side of his ribs.

Lauren’s protests and Kieran’s affronted gasps fell to deaf ears. Lauren bit her lip. How do they get out of this situation when she’s clearly too far unhinged for reason? Lauren glared at her, each word dripping irritation, ‘ **I told you, _we_ were on a date!**’

She trudged around the room, voice betraying no trace of the amusement she felt on the inside. Instead, sincerity made its home in the sound waves, only the lies being distinguishable for Lauren from their tone, ‘ **You were going to hurt us all.** Viscount Redcliff is the only good man here who has given orphans like me an opportunity to have a good life. **He is the only who makes us all believe in the monarchy, and you were here to ruin it!** ’

So, she knew they meant no harm. Then, why was she acting this way? Lauren looked at Kieran. Did they know each other? Was she from the Phantom Scythe too? Kieran’s exasperation and indifference would make a lot more sense as he was supposed to be on a mission. She looked at Kieran, cheek cut up where it had been hit. A silent conversation passed in their eyes. Lauren wasn’t hurt anywhere. If the look in someone’s eyes could lie, the reassuring way Kieran looked at her would glow all shades of red. 

Athena pointed at Lauren, and then at Kieran, ‘ **You corrupt officer!** With your stupid fake date!’ She walked over to hit Kieran once more, kicking him repeatedly. Athena screamed, ‘Where is the bomb? What have you done?’

Isn’t that where his wounds were? Lauren screamed at her to stop, then turning her attention to his crumpled form, ‘Kieran, are you okay?’ So, she knew who they were and she is quite against the monarchy, and it seems that she is having _fun_? Lauren pleaded, ‘Stop! I swear we didn’t mean any harm!’

Kieran chose to spoke now, finally, ‘We merely got lost – ’, cut off with another coughing fit.

Despite hearing the obvious lies, Lauren went on, ‘Check our IDs! I’m the Chief of Police’s niece! **He’s just an archivist** – ‘ She became frantic now, ‘Stop hitting him!’

Athena gave one last blow, kicking him square in the ribs. Kieran fell to his side, coughing up a little blood, muttering _overkill_. Athena’s dramatics sobered a little at the blood, regarding Kieran with the equivalent of a facepalm. She bent down to his level, hands softly guiding him to sit, whispering, ‘Why didn’t you say you were hurt, you idiot?’

Kieran rolled his eyes as if to say, _and you would have believed me?_

Mustering surprise at the blood on Kieran’s shirt, she turned to Lauren, fraught and rigid. Knowing that Athena’s attention was solely on her, she repeated, ‘Check our ID’s! I’m the Chief of Police’s niece! **He’s just an archivist.** ‘

Pretending to have broken free from her _stupor_ , Athena looked puzzled, ‘Wait, you’re Chief Sinclair’s niece?’ She got up, shocked to the bone, ‘ **Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!** ’

It took more restrain than she was able to muster to not roll her eyes in full show. If Lauren couldn’t hear the lies, she would’ve believed the near-perfect pretense she was subjected to. Walking over to Lauren, Athena seemed to cave in on herself, as she asked, ‘You really only got lost?’ Eyes wide, displaying innocence that never had been there.

Oh, she was a _good_ actor! Lauren decided to play along as Athena untied her, ‘My apologies if we startled you.’ Rubbing her wrists, she turned to Kieran, ‘You alright?’ Athena now moved on to undo his restraints. He nodded, seeming to have caught his breath.

Athena exclaimed, ‘ **I should be the one saying sorry! Ever since the assassinations and Lune’s attacks, we all have been so on edge! We have been so scared that our group might be targeted** ,’ here she turned a pleading eye at Lauren, ‘just because Viscount Redcliff is a royal supporter.’ Lauren walked over to Kieran, zero interest in the lies floating around her. Athena noted that, lips turning up, smiling to herself. Athena addressed Kieran now, ‘You sure you’re alright? Eurydice might be able to help – ‘

He waved off her concern. Before he could say anything. Lauren grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet. Lauren answered for him, ‘It’s fine. I got him.’

At the distraught look Lauren threw at him, Kieran answered, ‘I’m alright.’ Athena nodded knowingly. Kieran rolled his eyes at her. Draping his arm over her shoulder, she supported his weight. Her hand a welcome weight on his not-bleeding side.

Making sure they found their way to the main exit of the park, Athena walked with them, apologizing the whole way. If Lauren’s expression was to be believed, Athena hadn’t been sincere, be it about Redcliff’s plans or her apologies. Standing at the exit, Athena turned to her, probably to belt out more unfeeling apologies, so Lauren waved her off. Athena smiled at both of them, ‘I hope you end up alright.’

The only truth she had told and it was the only thing that was the oddest.

As they left, Kieran mouthed at her, ‘Now, we are even.’

She walked back laughing. It was only fair. The rapier Kieran broke the last time they sparred was her favorite. She found Artemis waiting for her.

Bubbling with energy, she startled, ‘You let them leave in one piece?’

Athena rubbed her head, which she promptly got scowled at for. She walked to her tent in answer, ‘He is a friend first. You know that.’

Artemis chuckled. Of course, she knew. It hadn’t been that long since she last heard of the Hyacinth’s stories and all his tricks at the Foxglove. Entering her tent, Athena looked at the undone ropes lying around. Kieran had gotten himself in quite a dilemma if she was correct in her suspicions.

Who was she kidding with the _if_?

She was never wrong, at least not when it came to him. Worrying her lip, she moved across the tent. If the Hyacinth was working against the leader, it was quite an opportunity. It was only right that she used this opportunity aptly, turning it into their favor. She looked at Artemis, still standing by the opening of the tent, ‘Be a dear and get me my supplies?’

Artemis turned around, screaming over her shoulder, ‘Only if you never touch my hair ever again!’

Athena smiled. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO, when I say _Athena_ , you say _badass_!!!!
> 
> So, Athena here is her stage name and not her real name. Plus, the perfect set up for Soft Lauki!!! To be clear, none of the people here are dumb enough to not see through the obvious pretense. They all are trying to play it safe by playing at being naïve. It’ll be coming in handy. Btw this has easily become one of my favorite chapters. I loved proof reading it and I LOVE THE ATHENA I’VE WRITTEN!!!
> 
> Song: Wreak Havoc by Skylar Grey
> 
> I swear there were so many songs that I wanted to use and what’s up with that? All the badass songs fit villains so well??? Where’s my badass-hero-vibe song?? If you know any, do let me know?
> 
> Enjoy the stupid shenanigans and DO NOT EVER touch Athena’s rapier.
> 
> Love, Peace.


	10. Talk some sense to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kieran looked at her differently now_. Lauren froze, unable to back out from his grip, and unable to shake off his concern with another joke. So, that’s what it was. _Concern_. Almost desperate, he had reached out to her, to stop her. She could hardly breathe, and this time it wasn’t because she was panicking.

‘What the _hell_ was that?’, Lauren nearly screamed at Kieran, wanting to look back, to check if anyone had chosen to follow them, but she couldn’t. She was holding onto Kieran, who seemed to be slithering out of her grasp. She frowned at his futile efforts.

Kieran, moving to set his own pace, replied, ‘An old friend.’ An old friend, huh? She couldn’t help but wonder if all his _friends_ were this _welcoming_ , for lack of a better word.

She regarded him, his cheek now swollen, a perfect scarlet gash right across it. Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ‘You know, I was already questioning your definition of _friend_ before this happened. Why didn’t you say anything before?’

He answered truthfully, ‘I didn’t see her before.’

Was he even paying attention? Her eyes fell to the blood on his shirt. They could have just avoided this altogether, but he had to go and act so _dense_ , and then he had the audacity to call _her_ stubborn. Lauren rolled her eyes, ‘She was the _host_ of that show.’

He moved his shoulder, in what was supposed to be a shrugging motion, but now was merely a muted version of it. Kieran’s eyes turned to the road on their left. He turned to face Lauren, ‘Your house is on that street, right? It’s late you should get going.’

She looked up at him, puzzled, ‘How will you get to your apartment then?’

He waved off her concern, ‘ **I’ll be fine.** ’

Fine? He might walk into a ditch with how he seemed to have little to no strength left. Scratch that, he couldn’t even get to the bridge by himself in his current condition. Kieran wasn’t looking at her now though. Persistence written in the clenching of his jaw. He really was a fool. Moving unstirred over the obvious lie, she stopped walking, ‘Alright.’ 

He stared at her, as she untangled the mess of limbs that they had become, ‘You actually agreed with me over something, officer?’

The smirk could be heard clearly in his voice, but the satisfaction of it failed to breach his eyes. She dropped her hands from where they were supporting him, finally moving to take his hand off her shoulder. Holding his arm, she said, ‘Sure.’ _I’d like to see you walk five feet without collapsing in pain,_ she didn’t say. She let go of his arm, gesturing him to go ahead. Lauren stood exactly where she had let go of him, watching him move.

This was bad. He suspected to have already broken a rib from yesterday, but the way he had kept on losing blood upon little exertion, and the way he could only move or walk in agony, it would take a few days for him to be alright. He wasn’t fine at all. Simply walking itself was enough of a curse. Blessed they were that they hadn’t run into Belladona. He took the first few steps, immediately being unable to breath.

Lauren watched Kieran stumble through the first few steps, ultimately collapsing against the wall by the side. She walked over to him then. She shifted to where he had bent down in agony, ‘It’s hurting?’

He waved her off, breathless, ‘ **Not really.** You should go.’

Why the hell was he so insistent on sending her home? It’s not that she did not want to go home but that she couldn’t possibly leave him here, all by himself, like this. Lauren should be home. She needs to be somewhere safe and not unguarded in empty streets in the dead of night. If Belladona did find them now, he wouldn’t even be able to talk properly, much less fight. Placing her hands back exactly where they were a minute ago, she huffed, ‘Your lies begin to lack creativity, Kieran. At least make them interesting.’

Kieran turned to look at her now. As soon as he had, he turned away to face the road. She pulled him up to stand, resting his free hand over her shoulder, this time, without any resistance from him. He would have persisted on sending her home if he was able to walk by himself. It was getting too late to still be fighting. Kieran leaned on her, ‘Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on this.’

Finally, feeling his full weight against her, she nearly laughed upon realizing how much assistance he truly needed and how horribly he was holding back from seeking it. She smirked, ‘Yes, I can see that. What I don’t get is why your _friend_ ‘, a disbelieving edge to the word, she continued, ‘let us go, when she clearly knew why we were there?’

Kieran let out a little laugh, immediately turning into a grimace at the pain. ‘When I say old friend, I really do mean _friend_. **In the Scythe, having fought each other to the death is generally a given for being friends,** so don’t mind the hostility.’

Lauren noticed his grimace more than the unconvincing exaggeration. If he was well enough for his jests, he’ll live. She rolled her eyes at the non-answer, ‘That’s not even –‘, then, muttering, ‘forget it.’ If he wants to pretend, she’ll let him. They walked in silence then. The crowd from the circus had already dissipated long ago, shops had closed down, and only the streetlights still stood as a reminiscence of life, guiding them to their destination. Despite it being a traversing, cold night, the moon shone brightly, the atmosphere foregoing white fog, to showcase the strength that still endured in Lune.

_They kept on walking on the wrong side of the right road._

They crossed the bridge. She mused, ‘There was nothing suspicious there’, she paused, ‘except for Sake and Davenport.’ She looked at him, then. He was clearly in a lot of pain, and just a moment ago he was trying too hard to laugh it off. Right now, he stiffened a little, jaw tense, and expression unreadable. She couldn’t help but doubt her assessment, ‘Or was there?’

He shook his head, ‘The circus can’t be a part of this bloodbath.’

Not a lie, and yet. She asked, ‘How can you be so sure?’ She looked at him, for the slightest show of hesitance in case he chose to tell her another half-truth.

He looked right back at her, auburn strands flying in the midnight wind, the better side of the moon reflected in her eyes. The better side of _him_ reflected in her eyes too. He chuckled, turning to look straight at the road ahead, ‘I just am.’

Lauren stifled a laugh of her own over his antics and cryptic answers. Turning a lopsided grin at him, she complained, ‘You’re making even less sense than usual, _Subordinate_.’

He smiled at the moniker, glad to be able to hear it again. It didn’t bother him the same as before. It felt nice, and wrong. The way he found familiarity in the curve of his sword. It gave him peace, and yet he knew that it was a luxury he wasn’t supposed to partake in.

He pouted, ‘Really? **I think I’m perfectly sensible.** ’

An eternity passed in a blur, and they finally reached his apartment. Once nearing the threshold, Kieran switched to the rails of the steps for support. He leaned on them, moving to fish for the key in his pocket.

Lauren rested by the door, with her arms crossed, observing him. Agonizingly slow and wincing with every twitch, it was torturous to watch him. Lauren did not even want to imagine what he was _actually_ going through. Crossing over the few steps to stand beside Kieran, she batted at his arm, ‘Just let me get it, you can barely move your arm.’

Bothered, he prodded deeper into his coat, ‘I’ll get it.’

Lauren held Kieran’s arm, gently drawing it back. Drawing his coat to her, she lingered for just a moment, ‘Just save the wincing.’ Then, proceeding to procure the key, she went up the steps again, moving to unlock door. Kieran walked up the steps, drained from the excursions he had been a part of lately. Lauren held the door open for him, locking it behind her after she walked in.

Having taken off her coat and leaving it on the couch, she made to help him, wordlessly. The blood might not have been a lot, per say, but the way it seemed to glow on Kieran’s ivory shirt, making it cling to his side, drew a spontaneous wince out of her. On her tip toes, she hung his coat on the rack.

Kieran moved closer to the couch, leaning on it. He breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even something he’d had for long. Regardless, it was home. If the cave was where he could keep his vengeance alive, his apartment, in the past few years, had become a place where he did not just keep himself alive, but tried to remind himself of reasons to live as well. He breathed in the familiar smell of lavender in the air, that completely put him at ease. Kieran with his guard down was a rarity all on its own.

Turning to the door closest to her, purely rhetorical, Lauren called out, ‘The kit’s in the bathroom? I’ll get it.’

For a moment he had forgotten that Lauren was still there. Belatedly, he answered, ‘Yes, it’s under the sink.’ It hadn’t been a particularly gruesome night but his hands itched to draw. His hands itched to draw _her_ smirk.

Lauren came out of the bathroom, medical kit in hand. She walked over to the kitchen table, ‘I didn’t annoy you earlier, but how the hell did you get hurt this bad in a _bar fight_? Do you want to try telling the truth?’ Of course, his alibi wouldn’t hold. Even if he hadn’t lied, she knew all too well that someone like _him_ couldn’t possibly get hurt this bad in a simple bar fight.

Knowing fully that lying wouldn’t get him anywhere, he waved his hands around, trying to find the right words, ‘Well, technically it wasn’t a bar fight, per say, but it was just as much of a mess.’

She looked at him then, ‘Huh. A bar fight with guns. And I can only assume it was at the Grim Goblin?’

Not a question that she asked, but he couldn’t let things go unsaid between them. Not again. ‘It can get rowdy sometimes’, he admitted, as honestly as he could. Accepting that, she nodded. Then, she glared at him, pointing to the kit. Oh. Oh! He should go over to the table. The reason they were there in the first place was because he was injured. Apparently, injured enough to have Lauren Sinclair show empathy to _him_ , of all people.

Lauren rolled up her sleeves. Halfway to the foot of the table, he remembered that he wasn’t hurt just a little. He had _quite a lot_ of injuries from last night. He hesitated then from undoing the buttons on his shirt, brain turning to mush at the absence of a reasonable excuse. Lauren, completely oblivious to his misgivings, assumed that it was because he was in pain.

Watching his hands still linger over the topmost button, she moved to him, undoing them for him. That broke him from his stupor to reality. Lauren Sinclair was standing next to him, undoing his shirt buttons. Lauren Sinclair was going to be mad, enraged, purely _flabbergasted_ , at what she’ll find underneath. He froze at the thought. Lauren felt it. She helped him get out of the shirt.

Balling up the shirt, not even bothering to look at him, she asked, ‘Did you actually think I believed you when you said that you were fine?’, instead moving to place the shirt on the edge of the table. Taking out some ice from the fridge, she looked around for a simple rag, ultimately settling to roll them up in the cleaner part of his shirt. Rolling it up sufficiently, she handed the makeshift pack to him, for his neck. She went on to take the bandages from the kit.

‘I got this,’ Kieran spoke up.

Then, she proceeded to look at him, to really look at him. To think he managed to come to work, and act as if everything was alright. On top of that, he had to relive Allendale while talking to Kym. Then, they had to run into his _old friend_ , and now he was pretending to be fine. Fishing out the bandages from the kit, Lauren retorted, ‘Like this morning?’ Of course, she’s still mad that he lied about it. Kieran stared at her back for a minute, then leaned onto the table, bracing his arm, feeling too small under her watchful stare. The cold of the ice felt good on his neck.

Lauren went ahead to clean the wounds on his side. Thankfully, the stitches were still holding, even after everything they had been through. The wound was quite high up on his ribs. How the hell did he stitch that? Wincing at the alcohol, Kieran cleared his throat. Providing an unwelcome distraction, Lauren prodded, ‘Or like back at the circus?’ Kieran winced some more, this time, _not_ because of the alcohol. ‘The circus is part of the Scythe, isn’t it? Even if it isn’t involved in the Apostle’s plans?’, she added.

Grasping onto the table top as Lauren cleaned his steady stitches, he retaliated, ‘Last I checked, _I_ wasn’t the lie detector. You tell me, officer?’ Moreover, he couldn’t help but ask, ‘Are you sure _you_ are alright?’ She did get hit on the head. Again.

Not even noting a dull ringing, she guessed, ‘I _seem_ to be fine.’ The rhythmic motion of soaked cotton caught her focus. Viscount Redcliff was probably one of the greatest men in Ardhalis. Giving a second thought to everything that Athena said, back in the tent, Lauren concluded, ‘She didn’t lie. She truly believes that Redcliff is a good man and that he is a supporter.’

Viscount Redcliff went through great pains to buy his title, and even then, he had always favored those who had been overrun by the royalty while also endorsing the monarchy. The man was a paradox, much like the one in front of her. ‘I agree with that,’ Kieran hummed, ‘he has only ever stood _for_ the people of Ardhalis, especially the south shore.’

Lauren tossed the soiled cotton, ridding herself of it and onto the bunch beside Kieran. Redcliff might be a good man or maybe Athena was simply mistaken. If Redcliff isn’t involved in the Scythe’s plans, for what reason could Tim Sake be there, and that too with an assassin, no less? ‘Sake,’ she recalled, ‘he mentioned a man named Robert Delaney back at the Camelia but I couldn’t find his records anywhere.’

Taking another wad of cotton, she began to clean the gash on his face. A minute too late, Kieran registered her words, repeating, ‘Robert Delaney?’ Kieran had hardly been paying much attention to anything around him, but that name got him centered.

Hopeful, Lauren paused, ‘Yes, did you know him?’

His expression darkened. He hesitated, finally biting the bullet, ‘I killed him. Four years ago.’ The conversation lead to cast a pall over the calm air of the apartment.

Oh. _Oh._

Four years ago, and he still remembers his name.

How many names does he remember? How many does he regret? It was easier to believe that the Purple Hyacinth was a monster; infallible, corrupt and vile. Seeing the very much _human_ man in front of her, Lauren wasn’t sure what to make of it. Nobody would probably choose to be an assassin of their own free will. When faced with such an impossible situation, wouldn’t that skewer with just about anyone’s moral compass? Even _hers_ for that matter? 

Kieran took the pause to put down his shirt, now soaked from all the melted ice. The swelling on his neck had gone down a great deal.

Lauren discarded the cotton in her hand, in favor of picking up the bandage. She shrugged, ‘He did mention that Robert Delaney was dead.’ 

She started to bandage him, rolling it over the bruises on his right and the sharp strike through on his left. That seemed to be only gun-related wound; however, his shoulder wasn’t faring any better either. He had multiple fresh bruises stretched across his side and arm. He likely fell to his side. In a bar fight? That probably wasn’t all it was. There had to be more to the story. Kieran observed her as she went around him, bandage unrolling in hand. She caught his wandering eye.

Exhaling, he rolled his eyes, ‘Go on. I can tell that you’re itching to ask questions.’

She did want actual answers not misleading half-truths and white lies. She shook her head, ‘You wouldn’t be willing to answer them now. It’s fine.’ Huh. Lauren Sinclair always managed to find a way to surprise him, and in whatever she did, he knew he shouldn’t have expected anything different. A gloomy smile took over his grimace. Tying off the last of the knots of bandage, she smirked, ‘All patched up and not dying.’

Lauren went to the bathroom, leaving Kieran to deal with the muddied shirt and soiled bandages. He looked out the window, ‘You should have gone home instead.’

Lauren’s voice was muffled by the gushing tap, yet her amusement was clear as day, ‘And left you all alone to fall in a ditch on your way and die? **Tempting, now that I think about it.** ’

Kieran couldn’t focus on that, bunching up the shirt in his hands. The greatest of his worries at the moment was Belladona and the order she had been given. He shot back, ‘Greychapel isn’t the safest place this time of night.’

Lauren came out of the bathroom then moving to gather her coat from the couch. Rolling her eyes at him, she bent down, ‘Good thing then, that I have a gun.’

Kieran caught her arm, whispering, ‘Don’t go.’

 _Kieran looked at her differently now_. Lauren froze, unable to back out from his grip, and unable to shake off his concern with another joke. So, that’s what it was. _Concern_. Almost desperate, he had reached out to her, to stop her. She could hardly breathe, and this time it wasn’t because she was panicking. She quirked up an eyebrow at him, a silent behest for him to speak. Promptly, Kieran let go of her arm. Turning to glare at the door instead, he spoke, ‘Belladona is supposed to get rid of you, because of Sake.’

Her world had been rather quite lately. Lauren groaned, ‘An assassin after me? I’m not even surprised anymore.’ Belladona was after her? That too, because of Sake? She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Curse the moment that she was assigned to Sake’s case! Better yet, curse the moment that _that_ pyromaniac, mad man was born!

Worry lines garnished Kieran’s forehead as well. He pleaded, ‘You need to be careful, Lauren, and walking the streets of Greychapel alone at this hour isn’t exactly the definition of careful.’

He could have mentioned that they could lie about their dating to everyone as he had to tell the same to the messenger anyway. He could have said that he would be around her at work and during their investigations and he wouldn’t let her get hurt. He could have told her that he had made a promise to himself to not let anything happen to her. He could have said it all, because the way that Lauren Sinclair looked at him now, she might have actually heard him out. Instead, he only said one thing.

Kieran continued, ‘The Messenger would want to meet me sometime next week and Belladona knows it.’ They both stilled.

Lauren looked at him, in silent admonition, waiting for him to continue, ‘Even though she isn’t aware of my mission, if she thinks that you are anyhow connected to the Leader’s plans, she wouldn’t hurt you.’ Is it okay to absolutely abhor how much sense her life makes? She nodded, understanding sprouting in her mind, ‘Because the Leader is the one that she is following. Alright.’ That put Kieran at ease.

Sitting on the couch, she undid her hair. Facing him at the side, she asked, ‘So, what then? We wait?’

That could end horribly and that was exactly what Kieran was planning to avoid. He leaned on the couch, ‘Unless I see her before that. If I do, I’ll be subtle about it.’

Lauren Sinclair hearing him out? That had to be a first. He stared at the back of her head. Never had he met someone as stubborn as him before. Feeling his gaze, she bit back ‘What?’ She didn’t even have to turn around for Kieran to be able to envision her annoyance.

Throwing caution to the wind, he uttered, ‘I guess, given how bull-headed you can be, I expected you to storm right out to fight her.’

She laughed, spellbinding, ephemeral and honest. Much like her.

Distracted by graver musings, she shook her head, ‘I may be stubborn but I am not a fool,’ then she shot him a look, ‘and that’s rich coming from _you_.’ The look on her face only seemed to call out _recidivist_. Bunching up her coat, she left it on the couch as a makeshift pillow. Then, she stood up forcing Kieran with both arms to his bedroom door, ‘Go, rest. I’ll be out here on the couch.’

Kieran halted, with his mind all made up to say quite a lot of things to Lauren. A lot had been lost between them. They had made amends and were working to do better, but it was always the things left unsaid that always brought them down and apart. He couldn’t let this, this partnership, friendship, whatever it was, whatever it had grown into, to fall apart. He couldn’t forget any of this at all.

_Giving me my space was good. It was mature on your part.  
But forgetting the things worth fighting for are the reason that they fall apart. _

Lauren nearly ran into him as Kieran halted. There was too much left unsaid, even now. Kieran shifted to look at her. She knew that now wasn’t the time or place to dissect all that they had witnessed. She held onto his shoulders, to desist him. To lighten the atmosphere, she patted him on the back, before he could get a single word in, ‘ **Yes, yes, and if I go through your things, you’ll have to kill me.** I know.’

Smiling to himself, Kieran entered his room, admonishing her, ‘Do actually sleep!’

_Not all queries are meant to be answered. Not all letters meant to be read.  
Sometimes it’s best to let things go, simply to remember all that’s left unsaid. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY TO A NEW CHAPTER!!!
> 
> I wrote this part before reading 69, so I was strangely proud of myself for the part where Lauren pulls Kieran’s coat to herself and also when Kieran muses that he had never met someone as stubborn as him. Hurt/Comfort put aside, THIS is the Lauki shit I scream for lol
> 
> Moon Maiden was such a TREAT!!!!!
> 
> Also, this “ _I’d like to see you walk five feet without collapsing in pain,_ she didn’t say.” is the most on brand Lauren thing I think I could have come up with. Homegirl knows when to back down and let someone flail around only to come back with an ‘I fucking told you so’
> 
> Also, recording equipment came to be used by police/spies by around 1900s and refrigerators became a common household item around 1920s so yeah there’s that. Don’t let anyone think I don’t back up my facts with research. Also, gel packs only became prevalent in 1970s so here we have ice.
> 
> Song: I Found by Amber Run
> 
> And I know I basically SPRINTED with the word count but I didn’t want to break this chapter in two parts, and yet, I missed out on adding some pretty cute details here. I also couldn’t help myself from adding parts of a poem I wrote at the end. Oh well.
> 
> Hope reading this made you as happy as writing this made me!
> 
> Love, Peace.


	11. Tell myself I'm alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the thing about the world: no matter where you are or what you do, someone is always watching. Someone always notices you. Shadows lurk even in bright daylight and as much as you would like for it to be, you really are _never_ alone.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, Lauren trudged forward. Usually sleepless nights didn’t affect her. She had been familiar to the gradual waning of moonlight for nearly half her life now. The hands on the clock would turn, the moon would change spaces, losing a slow chase to the stars overnight, and Lauren would stay fixed on her bedroom window, still as a statue, watching it. What if it was an illusion and what would happen if it could break? That was the thought that kept Lauren fixated on the moon’s motions.

The past few nights had been difficult. Another nightmare graced her, led on by all the guilt she had in her unending chase. Thank the gods, she didn’t scream or at least Kieran didn’t hear her. If the blanket she woke up under was any proof, he certainly did not fall sleep before she did and the coffee mug on the table in front of her when she woke meant he was rather imperceptible in his steps and ministrations. The flair of a trained assassin, no doubt.

The sleeplessness of last night, however, only had one shadow to blame. _Him_.

‘Someone had a long night,’ Kym prodded Lauren. As soon as she had, a yawn escaped her, making Lauren chuckle.

She beamed back, ‘Yes, _someone_ surely did.’

Lauren plodded through the streets of Ardhalis with Kym in tow. Now that she noticed, even Will seemed to be out of step. Did the litres of coffee fail him today? They walked on, the three musketeers, but much more worn out, as if they had personally offended Fate. Did that make Kieran D'Artagnan? Shaking off that train of thought, she dragged Kym by the elbow, making her rush. Catching up to Will, she pointed at him, ‘I can understand him, but why do _you_ look like death warmed over as well?’

To see Kym sapped of her retorts this early in the morning was an unusual sight. Lauren laughed. It was then that she noticed Will and her swapping looks, a silent conversation going on. Had they been doing that since the morning? She hadn’t noticed before. Did they? _Finally?_ A snicker from Kym stopped her from questioning anything further. Pretending to be holding in her amusement, Kym walked ahead of them, the spring in her step back to normal, ‘ **Oh, you know, I finally learned to astral project into hell, so you two don’t go anywhere without me.** ’

Will snorted at that, and Kym marched ahead, proud of her sense of humour. It took everything for Lauren to not hold her stomach and fall down laughing. The best lie she had heard in a long, long time. Will nudged her shoulder with his, amusement lacing his voice, ‘Even compared to me you look terrible, and that’s quite a feat. Are you sure you’re alright?’

Was she? The concern was bursting forth from his eyes, so she took a moment to truly give it a thought. An assassin was on her trail, they still hadn’t located the bombs that were supposed to destroy Ardhalis and on top of that her world had been upside down since she found out that her parents’ deaths were planned. She lied that she was fine. This time, Lauren nudged his shoulder, ‘Maybe it’s just a combination of late nights and when I hit my head.’

Will frowned at that, ‘Is that still bothering you? That was over a week ago, Lauren.’

Lauren bit her tongue. Will crossed his arms, stopping in front of her, ‘You will get checked out at the infirmary when patrol ends, and you will be on leave until the doctor clears you.’ Lauren refuted that she was fine, but Will glared acceptance at her. That was justified. To Will, the last she was injured was well over a week ago. 

The lull of an uneventful patrol washed away in the static from Will’s radio.

‘B&E at the store in front of Whiteriver Street.’

The entire patrol unit became additionally vigilant at the sound.

‘Suspect is wearing a grey hat and coat and running towards Town Square.’

The weight of his rank settling on his shoulders, William bore command as Lieutenant. ‘Ladell, with me. Randall, lead the unit to Morrison Ave,’ he ordered, then running in the direction of Whiteriver, he muttered to Lauren, pointedly, ‘stay out of trouble.’ Lauren rolled her eyes, jogging up to Randall and other officers. She _was_ going to stay out of trouble. She had zero plans to lose any more patrol time.

At the turn before Morrison Ave, a flash of light caught her eye. She turned to see a man across the street, fiddling with a camera. His silver hair could be seen from the distance, glinting in the sheltered light of the sun. She wouldn’t have thought much of it if she hadn’t noticed his missing ring finger, and also, he ran as soon as he saw her looking at him. She _had_ to go after him. Lauren paused as the patrol moved forward. She exclaimed, ‘ **I think I see the suspect!** ’ Running across the street, she shot back, ‘I’m going after him, Randall!’

Exasperated, Lukas Randall screamed at her, ‘Sinclair!’ The day had barely begun, and it was already turning out to be quite a headache. Glaring at Sinclair’s disappearing silhouette, he grumbled to the officer next to him, ‘I’ll go after her, handle things.’

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Cameron ran as fast as he could. Did she see him? She definitely noticed him? Putting the camera around his neck, he ran forward, passing alley and street, all alike to him in his run. Slowing around the corner, he caught his breath. She couldn’t still be following him for sure? He looked back. She was still following him.

 _Fuck_. Picking up his pace, he shuffled his scarf to cover his face, hoping that wherever he was running to wouldn’t lead him to a dead end.

Lauren ran straight through the alley. That man was turning the corner when he stopped in his tracks, seeing her pursue him. A moment of pause, and he picked up his pace. Uncaring of the broken stone steps making her stumble, she charged forward. She could barely make out his form from that far, let alone his face.

That missing finger! Could it be Sandman? He _was_ alive until last year. But why show up _now_? He was still definitely a part of the Scythe. Maybe if she caught up to him, she could find out more answers about her parents.

Turning the corner, she could hear Randall’s voice, faintly in the background. She had to get to him before Randall caught up with her. From there, she could see that the man was beginning to climb a fence at the far end of the block. The block after that led to Ellerman Road. She knew the perfect shortcut. She ran to the side, noticing that the man looked awfully young for him to be Sandman. Running over the wall of the apartment complex beside the gate, she jumped down into the backyard, just as he did. 

Camera hung around his neck, and face obscured with a scarf, he stilled, clearly surprised at seeing her ahead of him. He began to run, the only safe exit being the path around the building. This was her only chance. She grabbed his arm, pulling him against the backwall. Ready to punch, she drew back her hand. He blocked it just in time, pushing her to the wall. She held on, drawing out her gun.

In his haste, his scarf slipped down. Lauren froze, ‘Dylan?’

Cameron was too close to getting caught, when thankfully, for whatever reason that Sinclair girl stopped dead. Taking advantage of the opening, he tripped her over his foot, making her clash onto the ground. She crashed with a loud thud, hitting her head on the ground. Readjusting his scarf, he ran to the front of the building. Sighing, he only calmed down a little when he realized that she wasn’t following him anymore.

Dylan? Now, who was _that_? Wiping sweat off of his brow, he straightened up. He still had to go and oversee the shipments.

Here’s the thing about the world: no matter where you are or what you do, someone is always watching. Someone always notices you. Shadows lurk even in bright daylight and as much as you would like for it to be, you really are _never_ alone. Running off, a single-minded focus on getting to the docks long before the arrival of the shipment, Cameron failed to notice the shadows that followed his every move. He wasn’t alone. Not really.

Gun in hand, Lauren flipped on the ground to face the sky.

 _Grey_.

Nearly the same shade that his eyes had been.

 _Dylan_.

No. No! It couldn’t have been him! He would have recognized her. But his eyes. Her eyes went to the gun in her hands. It couldn’t have been Dylan. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She had a chance to capture that man. He _must_ have had ties with the Scythe. Nevertheless, he was guilty. No innocent man would ever run like that. Feeling a throbbing come on, she crashed back into the ground. Why was it becoming a thing that Scythe members kept slipping from her hands?

It was Randall’s voice that brought her back to reality. Shouting an unsteady _here_ in response to his cries, she sat back up. He found her in the garden. Peering over the backwall, seething, he muttered, ‘Sinclair! Hawkes and Ladell caught the suspect.’ He paused, looking at her, sitting dejectedly on the ground. He quirked an eyebrow, concern simmering beneath his grumpiness, ‘Did you just terrorize _and_ get bested by a layman?’

‘ **No, I slipped.** ’

Beginning to get up, she stumbled over her own steps. Lukas noticed that, offering her a hand as she jumped over the wall. A little unsteady upon landing, she stopped, bracing herself against the wall. Lukas asked, ‘You good?’, rolling his eyes at her noncommittal yes. She waved off his worries as she walked ahead, heading back to Morrison Ave. Lukas followed behind, keeping a close eye on her. He may be the grumpiest man in the precinct but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attentive.

Randall’s attentiveness cost Lauren her workday as soon as she stepped foot in the office. Kym stood at her desk, arms crossed, talking to Will standing right next to him. William noticed her as she entered through the door. He nudged Kym, and they both proceeded to glare at her with twin expressions of exasperation. Lauren could not even bring herself to put up a fake smile as she approached her desk. William stared her down, using the full authority of Lieutenant in his demeanor, ‘Did you have to run out on your own, Lauren?’

‘ **I was sure I saw the suspect.** ’

Lying to them never did get any easier, even when the lies between them had snowballed into a thing too hideous to even keep track of. Grabbing her arms, and inspecting her face up close, Kym wailed, ‘And that got you another fall? You didn’t get hurt, did you?’ Lauren stared at Lukas, mouthing _traitor_ at him. He shrugged in response, sitting down to do his paperwork.

Pulling Kym’s hands off of her, she faked a smile, hoping that it resembled an unforced one, ‘ **I’m glad you guys are worrying but I’m fine.** ’ Unbelieving of Lauren’s very obvious lie, Kym huffed.

Before she could get a word in, William led her to the door, ‘Get checked at the infirmary and go home. You need to rest Lauren.’ Burying her burning desire to refute and retort, she complied. The last thing she wanted was to be put off of patrol for another week.

Opening the door, she shot back, ‘Yes, _mother_.’

Could it have been _him_? Lauren closed the door rubbing her forehead, the thumping in her head almost as loud as her heartbeat. She walked to the infirmary; all her thoughts taken over by one name. If he was, he would’ve recognized her. There was no way that he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe she was suffering from hallucinations because of actual brain damage now. Still, a man with four fingers and a camera and who ran away like a criminal wasn’t exactly the combination of attributes that put her mind at ease. She stopped at the door to the infirmary.

Kieran might know if there was someone like that in the Phantom Scythe, wouldn’t he? The archives were rather close from the infirmary. Making up her mind and ignoring the pain, she walked to the door of the archives. She tried for the door. It was unlocked. Kieran must be inside. She went in and she did find him, balancing files in his arms, facing the shelves. She tapped a tune on the door before speaking, ‘Hey, I got a question,’ and paused.

To be honest, Kieran was expecting to see Lauren. Ever since he had showed up at work with a gash on his face, Kym Ladell had taken just about any and every opportunity to tease Lauren and urging her to take care of her _beloved_. Hence, Lauren Sinclair had become an acknowledged presence at the archive door, despite their plans to keep it a secret.

‘He has to work in the archives and Lauren is forbidden from the archives, _Willame_. Such a _tragic_ romance!’, Kym Ladell had cooed, making not only him and Lauren but Hawkes cringe as well.

Busied with the files in his hands, he answered, not even bothering to turn, ‘Sure. Ask away.’ Putting the files back on the shelves, he was surprised to hear nothing but the patter of cardboard against polished wood. Placing the last of the files, he questioned, ‘Officer?’, only to be met with a grunt.

Was Lauren angry? He didn’t remember particularly offending her. Although, it didn’t exactly take much effort from him to offend her. Spinning to face her with the least detestable grin that he could conjure, he froze, his grin soured to unequivocal terror. Lauren stood hunched, a hand bracing over the archive door, face contorted in unbearable pain. In a flash, she collapsed, narrowly missing her head from hitting the doorframe. Kieran rushed forward to catch her.

He called out to her, softly, ‘Lauren?’

No response.

Face pale, eyes shut tight, she had crashed into his chest, the only thing holding her steady being Kieran’s arms around her. Maneuvering her arm over his shoulder, he picked her up. How does someone get hurt in a precinct? And out of all the people, why is it always her in these situations? Unable to pinch the bridge of his nose, he shook his head.

Carrying her to the infirmary, he muttered, ‘What did you get into this time, you idiot?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKA is underway now!! I had to spend the longest time trying to find a title for this, even though, it was probably the easiest chapters to find a title for. Well, we finally see all those late nights and head trauma catching up to Lauren *shrugs*
> 
> The only reason I skipped a few days from their circus date is because Kieran fretting over Lauren and carrying her when he himself hasn’t healed wouldn’t be healthy. Not that Lauki at this point is a healthy ship. So, this takes place at least 3 days after Lauren came to know the hurricane that is Athena.
> 
> I just hope I can write Lauki’s progress into a non-toxic ship believably enough before making them official.
> 
> In case you're wondering what good fortune led to three chapters being posted within a day, let me clarify, it was bad fortune. My bad fortune. I'm posting these before my laptop dies on me and I'll be back once its battery issues have been resolved. *cries* Y'all better pray for me lol I can NOT survive without my laptop.
> 
> Song: Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan
> 
> Hope this was fun for y’all lol
> 
> Love, Peace.


	12. The pain, it's determined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Dear gods, have I met my equal in stubbornness?’, Kieran pondered, drawing a chuckle out of Lauren, that she had seemingly tried hard to suppress.

_‘Even if you get a dose of anti-venom right after you're poisoned, you're probably still going to die.’_

Belladona’s words rang through Kieran’s head as he rushed to the infirmary with Lauren in his arms. Contrary to the mayhem that they held, they brought Kieran peace. If Lauren had been anywhere around Belladona, she wouldn’t have been able to walk around the precinct so casually, looking so peaceful, even if it was in death.

He never was there in person to see any of Belladona’s kills nor did he have any interest in running to find calamity. His own work provided him with enough misery to last a lifetime. He was, however, unfortunate enough to hear other Scythe members, his _comrades_ , talk about the Golden Viper’s atrocities. How the victims barely had any life in them, despite the way their eyes bulged out, seeming as if they were reaching out to you in agony, as if you could still save them.

The dichotomy of life, of survival, being most apparent right before it being lost forever.

Lauren’s face was anything but that. Her closed eyes hardly fluttered, and her form could easily be mistaken for someone that had simply fallen asleep, exhausted after one too many tiresome nights. The steady thrum of her heartbeat against his was the only thing that made Kieran believe that she could be alright, the only thing that kept him rooted in reality and strain. She might not be okay but she was alive, and he would do just about anything to make sure that she stays that way.

Kieran entered the infirmary, nudging the door open with his foot. The doctor reeled back, more at the sight of the frantic man than at that of the precinct firebrand, who could normally be found consuming her own mind and matter into the fire of her ambition and dedication. He immediately got to work, as Kieran laid Lauren on the closest bed.

Ten agonizing minutes.

Ten agonizing minutes passed and Kieran could finally breathe, grip over Lauren’s hand slackening as the doctor assured him that she wasn’t in any grave danger, and will most likely be up and about with her usual imprudent antics soon. Noting down details on her chart, McBay asked, ‘So, she collapsed in the hallway?’ At Kieran’s attesting, he continued, ‘Officer Sinclair is an ill-fated regular to the infirmary and I’m quite sure she probably got hurt on the patrol.’

That reckless idiot. How could she possibly be so bull-headed to run right into trouble after everything? ‘This is after I told you to be careful?’, exasperated, his hold on Lauren’s hand tightened. She lay still, unconscious but alive. She would really be okay. Feeling a headache coming on, he rubbed the back of his head, hair falling out from where he had tied it back neatly with a black ribbon.

‘It seems to be all but I’d rather confirm it. Would you get Lieutenant Hawkes?’

The man before him asked. Nodding to the doctor, Kieran left in the direction of the patrol unit’s office. As soon as he had closed the door behind him, he saw Hawkes approaching at the corner of the hallway. He was talking to someone, ‘I told her to go get checked so she’d – ‘, only stopping when he saw Kieran at the door of the infirmary, with his hands on the handle.

‘White? What happened?’

Becoming acutely aware of the disheveled state of his hair, he made a feeble attempt at tucking his hair back. ‘Oh, good, I was coming to look for you.’ At the confusion on the Lieutenant’s face, he explained, ‘Lauren’, he pointed to the door behind him, ‘she collapsed in the hallway. The doctor said she has a concussion. Something that happened on the patrol?’

Nearly pushing Hawkes into the wall beside him, Ladell poked her head from the corner, worry etched into every muscle, making a sharp contrast to the calm and ease that she always seemed to radiate, ‘She chased after a _suspect_.’

Bracing himself before he could slip, Hawkes rolled his eyes at Ladell. He walked over to Kieran, with Ladell in tow. Clearly confused, the man spoke up unsurely, ‘Randall said she fell as the suspect escaped her. I told her to get checked.’

Kieran chuckled at that, ‘And you assumed she’d listen?’, voice taking a tone of amusement, ‘Reckless idiot.’

Ladell threw him a peculiar look at that.

The door swung open behind him then, none other than Lauren Sinclair making her way out, rolling her eyes at him, ‘Except that this _reckless idiot_ is completely fine.’

Voice leering on the verge of admonishing, Kieran glared at her, ‘You have a concussion! And you thought it wise to chase after a criminal?’

He stared her down, looking more and more like the man she first met on the bridge, hair astray and his deceitful charm oozing out of every single moment, each and every twitch of his muscles. He looked nothing like the meek archivist he was supposed to pretend being. Answering with a glare of her own, she snapped back, ‘I didn’t even hit my head. Should I stop doing my job?’

Heedless of the Lieutenant and Sergeant standing right next to them, Kieran let his brash scorn spill through, forming cracks in the timid façade. Kieran pointed to her then, ‘If your job includes losing suspects and collapsing out of nowhere, then, yes!’ Lauren, knowing full well that she had taken a much greater risk than if she had gone after a simple suspect, at least had the courtesy to fluster at the mention of it. Then, Kieran added softly, ‘I was scared.’

It wasn’t a lie that caught her off guard, as it wasn’t a lie. It was the sincerity in Kieran’s voice that had rendered her speechless. The soft way that he uttered those words, as if only for her to hear, as if the world would turn his admission into a weapon, or rather as if he, himself couldn’t believe what he had said out loud, as if upon noticing Lauren’s expression, he had just now realized that what he had said had been true.

Both their expressions sobered into something frail and genuine.

Upon seeing the look on his face, Lauren was thrown farther back in her memory. _‘Don’t go.’_ He had said it, letting the words out tenderly into the calm of the night, even back then, disbelieving of the tone that his own voice had taken. Something honest, open and shocking, laid out in the glinting blue of his eyes. The air around them, suddenly, becoming too warm to breathe in easily. That was another look that she knew all too well now, a look on his face, she could never have guessed that she would ever know someday.

William coughed to get their attention, ‘Well, you shouldn’t be because Lauren is going to be off duty for a while.’

William’s voice brought her back to reality. Lauren groaned, ‘William!’

Smiling wickedly, Kym wiggled her eyebrows at them both, from behind William. Throwing her a stern glare and moving to the infirmary door, he warned Lauren, ‘Don’t.’ Before Lauren could get a word in, William shut the door behind him. Kieran laughed at the expression on her face, sardonic and deriding, choosing to lean on the wall, right next to the door.

At the modest amusement on Kieran’s face and the seething resentment on Lauren’s, Kym couldn’t help but squeal, ‘You guys are so adorable!’ Nudging Lauren on the side, Kym teased, eyeing them both, ‘Don’t you see you scared him, Lauren? Don’t you see how worried he was?’ Oh, right. They were _dating_. Kym sighed, hand clasped over her heart, ‘Finally, I can breathe easy knowing that _someone_ is there to bug you into taking care of yourself.’

Lauren noted the soft humor in Kym’s retorts. She glanced at Kieran from the corner of her eyes. Despite how he seemed to be getting on her nerves on purpose, he did look genuinely worried. Lauren may have been a little out of it, well, quite a lot actually, but she had heard Kieran, felt his arms as they caught her. She could still remember, as if in a dream, distant murmurs of a frantic voice. _His_ voice.

Thankfully, Will chimed in, saving her from having to protest Kym’s teasing as well as justifying Kieran’s actions, ‘So, you’ll be going home. Now. Rest up and you better not show up here for a week. Doctor’s orders.’ He handed her a paper bag which held pills as well as a note justifying her absence.

Straightening up from where he was leaning against the wall, Kieran spoke up, ‘I’ll walk you home.’

Will turned to Kieran to thank him at the same time as Kym teased Lauren, ‘Aw, he’s going to walk you home!’ Grabbing the Sergeant by the elbow, Will turned around, to the direction of the break room, ‘Thank you, Kieran.’ Much to Kym’s dismay, he ushered her into the break room, ‘Come on, Kym.’

__________

‘She looks happy with him, doesn’t she?’, Kym pointed at the pair, nestled at the creak of the door.

Will, poking his head above hers, looked through the crack of the door, ‘Lauren? They look good.’

Kym squealed, ‘And the way he was scolding her back then?’ William chuckled as Kym continued, ‘She seemed so surprised. It was adorable!’ Will looked down at the amusement on Kym’s face. He stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck.

William asked, ‘You said you found something?’ Kym nodded, sitting on the chair. William poured them both a coffee.

Prodding the inside pocket of her coat, she admitted, ‘I’m not sure how reliable it might be.’

Hearing that, he wondered, ‘Don’t tell me you sneaked into another precinct?’

Appalled, Kym glared at him, ‘Oh, hush! I do have some sense of self-preservation, you idiot.’ Taking out a smooth envelope, she pushed it towards William as he handed her a coffee mug. Leaving his own mug in favor of inspecting the envelope, he sat on the edge of the table. Manila envelope, typed and bearing no signature at any end, the letter spelled out professional. At his questioning glance, Kym answered, ‘I found this letter on my desk actually, among other files.’ Kym bit her lip. Hesitating and looking over her shoulder, she murmured, ‘Don’t you think it looks like Lune?’

William opened the letter, beginning to read it. All these dates, extending right up to mid-February. He looked over the letter once more. It seemed very much like the duo’s words, full of themselves, and with more knowledge than the Investigation Unit alone could ever have mustered lawfully. There was one difference though. Spreading the letter on the table, William pointed out, ‘Except that they didn’t sign it.’

Was it considered a talent if someone knew how to state the obvious? Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, Kym asked him, ‘Would you? After what happened to their convicts?’

He pouted the denial, choosing to reassess the contents of the letter. He questioned, ‘So, Lune not only knows that we are investigating the Scythe, but they are helping us as well?’ That made their unofficial assignment rather easy. Everything making such immaculate sense that it seemed too good to be true.

An echo of his own thoughts, Kym leaned forward, cradling her mug, ‘That is what I want to believe, but it is most likely a trap.’ It _had_ to be a trap. How and why would someone leave this information for the pair of them? However, what were they supposed to do on the off chance that it wasn’t a trap? Would it be worth it to let this chance pass them by? They surely couldn’t pass this on to Hermann or March.

William placed the letter back in the envelope, handing it to Kym, ‘Only one way to find out.’

__________

The silence on the way to Sinclair manor was its own original brand of harrowing. Lauren and Kieran walked the way, and Lauren shrunk back on herself the entire time, thoughts running wild amok her brain, entangling her senses. Even if he hadn’t recognized her, she couldn’t brush the thought off of her mind. The walls around her judgements only turned stronger, from weak plywood to steel as she wondered if it had been _him_.

Something made a dent, piercing through the sturdy limits with none of the noise of metal grating on metal. Jerking a little, she realized Kieran had nudged her arm to catch her attention. Blinking at him, Lauren barely registered his muted apology. Maybe the concussion was more serious than any of them had been giving it credit for. Especially Lauren, who had come to him, asking questions instead of going to the infirmary.

Having caught her attention, Kieran continued, caution lacing his voice, ‘You came to ask me a question instead of getting checked out? What was it?’ Was it important enough to choose over her literal well-being? He didn’t ask that. He already knew the answer. To Lauren, everything was a better choice over her own safety.

Lauren paused, not because it wasn’t the exact thing running through her mind even after she had woken up with a splitting headache, but because they had to be out of earshot of the precinct. Looking around, she realized that they had come quite a long way from the precinct. Growing closer to her home, she recognized the calm of the streets. Despite the absence of the afternoon rush on the streets, she whispered, ‘The suspect I chased after,’ noting Kieran’s eyes on her, ‘he had silver hair and grey eyes, and a finger missing. Just like Sandman.’

That was a name Kieran hadn’t heard before. But a finger missing? Wracking his memory and coming up empty, he asked, ‘Sandman?’

Avoiding his eye, she answered, ‘Sandman was with Tim Sake before they blew up Allendale.’

If there was one thing that he could pin point about Lauren Sinclair and know to be correct, it would be her dwindling, near non-existent sense of self-preservation. Reaffirming what he had full confidence in being true, he asked, ‘And you think he might have been Phantom Scythe,’ rubbing the bridge of his nose, ‘and you still chased him _after_ I told you to be careful?’

Lauren rolled her eyes, a little smile making its way on her face, despite how the morning had been. She jabbed, ‘Oh, please. As if you wouldn’t have.’

Two sides of the same coin. Drowning in righteous fury and sinful vengeance. Pride that made you soar through life becoming the same pride that dragged you underground, viciously. Cut from the same cloth, the same substance, one fashioned into sin and another into salvation. Two sides. Two equals.

‘Dear gods, have I met my equal in stubbornness?’, Kieran pondered, drawing a chuckle out of Lauren, that she had seemingly tried hard to suppress.

Clouds had begun parting now to let in sunshine, the same bright light that seemed to shine over her form. ‘Wasn’t it a simple robbery?’, he asked. Traitors to the Scythe were hardly welcome in the capital much less in any conflicts.

Lauren shrugged, ‘Oh, I lied about that part. He was actually taking pictures of the patrol unit and I needed a reason to go after him.’

What could someone possibly attain from keeping watch over the patrol unit? Could they be moving bombs into the 11th precinct? Yet, there only came one person to Kieran’s mind that seemed to fit that description, if he even was in the city. Consequently, he also knew exactly where to find him. Kieran looked over to Lauren. The sky had cleared but the precipice of a storm had taken hold in her demeanor.

No wonder why. He still remembers the way she had reacted the very first day that she saw him in the precinct. Or for that matter, the condition she had made in their deal: _I don’t want people I care about involved, ever._ Her anxieties had only grown since the last spy in the precinct was assassinated, and the façade of calm near damn broke when he had showed up. He told her, sincerely so, ‘I can think of _someone_ that fits that description. I’ll try to find out what I can.’

She nodded. If he didn’t try, she would run through whatever stood in her way. She would run through into the gravest of dangers, blinded from lack of knowledge, and too arrogant to stand down. The time for a simpler state of affairs had passed them by. Whatever lay ahead in the path of their destruction was surely going to be too much handle, whether it was destruction brought about by them or one that had been dropped at their doorsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived a week without my laptop!!!! 0/10 would strongly NOT recommend. Big no.
> 
> Lauren doesn’t even know that she hit her head because she was so caught off guard by the _suspect_ which is why it doesn’t read as a lie. Also, Kywi ships Lauki too >o<
> 
> The most important part of this chapter is probably:  
>  **Kieran (the entire fic):** *tells Lauren to be careful* Don’t do it, girl **  
> Lauren (chapter 10):** Yeah, I ain’t gonna do it. I ain’t gonna do it **  
> Lauren (chapter 11):** *chases after a random PS dude, gets hurt, faints, doesn’t even accept it* **  
> Lauren (chapter 12):** I did it
> 
> Song: The Fault in Our Stars
> 
> This chapter basically took all the lines I had drawn for it and ate through them like a mouse on cocaine. Oh well. Oh, I will also be sticking to my original chapter plans despite the word count because if I continue to stick to ~2K per chapter, you, the readers as well as I might end up crying lol.
> 
> Also, SUMMARY IS UPDATED I REPEAT SUMMARY IS UPDATED THIS IS NOT A DRILL HAHAHAHA  
> I also included proper links in my story, just because. I’m getting cheekier here, someone’s gotta stop me before PH takes over my entire life. Oh, and I update the playlist as I write the chapters and not after I post them. Do with that what you will :) Check it out [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0C7PbG4T9X0RfoOVG1TLhB?si=XBEmzJRvRcGwQpTZwHyVQQ), the chocolate biscuits to the TSITA tea lol
> 
> Peace out.


	13. Devil's on your shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resting her head in her palm, she gazed at his retreating back, ‘I have to say when my little birdies told me you were in Ardhalis, I didn’t quite believe it.’
> 
> ‘Belladona,’ he faced her, ‘hello to you too.’

‘Cameron Grey. In the flesh.’ 

Already running late to report to the Messenger, it was just his luck to run into Belladona Davenport. Belladona swirled the drink in her hand, the noise of the Grim Goblin masking the sneer in her voice. Resting her head in her palm, she gazed at his retreating back, ‘I have to say when my little birdies told me you were in Ardhalis, I didn’t quite believe it.’ 

‘Belladona,’ he faced her, ‘hello to you too.’ 

Chuckling in a show of mirth, lines fading far before ever reaching her eyes, she eyed him, ‘Always with the formalities. So, what? The leader trusts you again?’ 

Leave it to her to ram straight into a topic, despite the connotations. He needed to end this conversation before facing the Messenger. He sat next to her on the barstool. Staring her down, he said, ‘No, the seventh apostle does. As he trusts you.’ 

A knowing look of understanding passes in her eyes. Taking a gulp of the concoction in her hand, she flatly stated, ‘You are a part of this. Surprising that he would take a chance on a _traitor_.’ 

So many years and all it took was one slip for him to be labelled traitor. Thumb subconsciously rubbing over his stubbed finger, he bit back, affronted, ‘He is doing _more_ than that. Entrusting me with the shipments.’ 

Belladona matched his glare in full force, ‘Is he now?’ A lull in the conversation beckoned him to leave. As he made to get up, Belladona asked, voice hardly above a whisper, ‘So, that’s what you were doing back then?’ Quirking up an eyebrow, she asked, ‘Running from that redhead?’ 

Cameron paled at the mention of the day’s events. How the hell does she know? No. The most important thing is that he shouldn’t lose his cool. Mustering all his suave and confidence, he turned to her, ‘I am also keeping track of an important insurance.’ 

Waving a finger at the bartender, she asked, ‘Who? _Oh_ , don’t tell me it’s the officer? It is that officer, isn’t it?’ She continued, watching the expression on Cam’s face. She laughed. This was almost getting on her nerves. Office Lauren Sinclair was insurance for the Apostle? Then, why did the Messenger give her permission to do as she pleases. If Cameron Grey was to steal her kill, she would make him pay for it.

Thanking the bartender for the refill, she chuckled at the vacant surprise on Cam’s face, stunned into calculating silence. She moved close to him, playing with a strand of hair that had become untucked from under his cap. She drawled, ‘You are far too easy to read, Cam. Well, easier than Ki- ‘, stopping at the darkness that consumed his expression. Riling him up was _so_ easy. She threw her hands in the air, the smile on her face giving away her amusement. She continued, ‘ _he who shall not be named_.’ 

Belladona just had to go and mention _his_ name. A transient ally or not, he couldn’t keep his calm to continue the conversation, to play this game of hers, where she threw these retorts to him, to make him grasp at the straws. Irritated, he gritted, ‘What do you want?’ 

She shrugged. Crossing her arms, cradling her drink, she answered, ‘I’m merely helping out an associate. It would be a shame if you stepped out of line or got caught.’ Turning her chin at him, half looking him over, half hidden from his stare, she exhaled, ‘Then, I would have to get rid of you.’ 

Hiding the flinch at Belladona’s words, he waved the shipment details at her, ‘I don’t plan on either. I want my revenge.’ 

Moving the file away from her face, she reassured him, ‘Sure, sure. But that is after you’ve taken care of the shipments and I assume, her?’ She had to know. To know whether to kill Cameron before he messed with her plans, or not. The frown made way to his face before he could suppress it. It might just be that Belladona wasn’t as well informed as she believed herself to be. Surprised, he spoke up, ‘She is to be kept safe from the operation.’ 

That made no sense. She asked him, ‘Is that seven’s order?’ 

He rolled his eyes, ‘No, I am merely wasting my time.’ He scoffed, ‘The messenger has had me on her trail for a while now, especially since Anslow was caught.’ He smirked as if to say that she isn’t as good as she thinks she is. This was wrong. The Messenger told her to take care of Sinclair, but if the Apostle is not only keeping track of her but also wants to keep her away from the operation, Messenger VII should have known that already. 

Now was not the time for this. Cameron didn’t seem to have noted her internal musings. She patted him on the back, ‘Well, keep doing your job well. Or don’t? I haven’t had a fun kill. It’s been a while.’ She looked at him, sliding her coat to the side, to reveal her golden hilted knife. Cam rolled his eyes at that, shrugging off her arm from his back. 

He made to get up only to be stopped in place by a hand on his other shoulder. 

__________

Picking up the letter was bittersweet. 

As Kieran reached home, his mind was befuddled with worry and intent. He needed to go to the Grim Goblin for answers, and he needed to go there today. Opening the door, he had nearly stepped on the letter. Shutting the door, he picked it up. Manila paper, typed and bearing no signature at any end, the letter sat on his kitchen table. It seemed to have been dropped by hand, bearing no postage stamps. Probably hastily shoved under his doorstep. 

Leaning against the sink, he took a long gulp of water, leaving his glass at the counter. Taking the envelope to the privacy of his desk, he sat down on his chair, the tatty creaking in protest. Inspecting the letter’s contents, he found the penmanship and words to be awfully familiar. He had no reason at all to trust the letter. However, if the sender was the one that he suspected, he had every reason to put his faith and future at the behest of the letter’s contents.

__________

Picking up the letter was bittersweet. 

The contents of the letter a great help, and the implications of it, swiping the rug from under Lauren’s feet. It couldn’t possibly be true, and if it was. No. Shaking her head, Lauren dropped the letter back on her desk. Her mind had already been torn between the possibilities of another Allendale when her nightmares pulled her from slumber. The day’s events had been horrifying. Why would someone want to watch over the patrol unit? It was obvious that whatever the Scythe had in store for them was going to be incredibly devastating. 

Fresh air during her walk home had done her no better. Although, she knew that Kieran might have some answers for her eventually, it did little to ease her. The more she disentangled the web of deceit around her, the deeper she fell into the clasps of inescapable terror. The answers she got only demanded more questions out of her. No amount of fresh air or the wind from the balcony could ever make her feel better when she could still taste the ash and smoke from five minutes ago. In her world, that had become twisted in the past few months, it wasn’t reality but a nightmare that had plagued her. 

Turning into an endless vastness, her mother’s garden had become a sanctuary. It was a memory from a rather simple day. Dylan sat next to her, under the shade of an apple blossom. He smiled to her as if he had told a joke. He spoke to her, and it was then that she realized, she couldn’t hear his voice anymore. The sky in the background turned to a storm. Desperate she grabbed Dylan’s shoulders, shaking him, pleading him to say something, anything. 

Dylan’s face turned to that of the man she had met that day. He pushed her back, rage on his face and still no sound. She fell back, as if from a cliff. She kept on falling, falling, falling. Then, it was night, and she was still falling. The moon shining above her, began to dissolve into the surrounding darkness. She kept falling down, hands outstretched in need to hold onto something. She kept on falling, and then, she found herself resurfacing in a cold sweat. Safe to say, that was all the sleep she had any change of getting. 

Unable to put her thoughts or herself to bed, the only thing she found herself willing to do was go to her office and pace around the room. Taking the time to be as secretive in her steps as humanly possible, she reached her office. Her board seemed just as it had before, holding pieces of a puzzle that she was losing the self-assurance to successfully solve with each passing day. Taking Dylan’s picture off the board, she made to sit on her chair. 

That’s when she noticed the envelope on her desk. 

__________

‘You know, I am not a huge fan of people stalking my date.’ 

None other than Kieran White showed up. Holding Cameron to his seat, Kieran tapped on the tab. An amalgamation of all his best and worst memories came to Cameron, unbidden and unsolicited, just like the man standing next to him. Cameron gritted, ‘White.’ 

At the same time, Belladona smirked at Kieran in lieu of a greeting. Kieran’s date? The officer? Speaking to herself, she bit her lip, ‘This will be entertaining.’ 

Kieran’s hold on Cam’s shoulder never wavered, ‘Grey.’ He acknowledged Belladona with a nod. Sliding into the stool beside him, Kieran spoke, ‘Didn’t think you’d be showing your face in the capital, Cam. I though they never let the traitors out, much less in the higher precincts.’ 

Keeping a straight face, a complete contrast to the emotions riling him up, Cam retorted, ‘Well, if they can let the _Hyacinth_ roam free, surely I could walk around following orders as well.’ So, he was going there. Retaliation was only fair, and Kieran did not like to lose any war he fought. 

Shrugging he waved at the bartender for a drink, ‘Well, follow all the orders you want but don’t end up compromising my assignment. The leader wouldn’t give you a third chance, now, would he?’ Striking the metal when hot, was Kieran’s specialty, even if he forgot to save himself from the sparks that he drew. A mock of genuineness, he looked at Cam, ‘How’s your _hand_ been?’ The monster for the traitor. That’s how Kieran had chosen to play his cards. 

Darkness loomed over Cam’s expression, ‘How _dare_ you taunt me?’ 

Matching his awful energy, Kieran drawled, a reminder of his own darkness, ‘You keep on forgetting. I always do what I _have_ to do.’ 

Cam narrowed his eyes, ‘Yeah, you’re the leader’s _lapdog_ after all.’ 

Menacingly, Kieran chuckled, ‘Oh, please. We both know that’s not true.’ 

A shot for shot, Cam retorted, cynically, ‘Really? Never seemed like that.’

The atmosphere in the bar was charged. Although they had talked in hushed whispers, the patrons of the bar couldn’t help but cower at the sight of the Purple Hyacinth. A clink of glass against wood was the only sound that could be heard as the bartender poured down a drink in front of Kieran. Determination on his face, Kieran stated, ‘You keep on forgetting.’ He pushed the drink in Cameron’s direction. He turned ahead, choosing to alleviate a bit of the tension and avoiding Cam’s eyes, ‘None of us had a choice back then.’ 

Nearly swatting at Kieran’s hand, Cameron shoved the drink away from him, rejoicing at the miniscule flinch on his face. None of us had a choice? Kieran didn’t have a choice? He could have just as easily stood by the one person that had been beside him nearly all his life. It was Kieran’s choice that had changed everything for Cameron. Staring at Kieran with a blinding rage, he gritted, ‘That’s not good enough for me.’ 

For a second, emotion could be seen on Kieran’s face, an emotion that seemed to resemble regret. Softly, he spoke, staring holes into the broken floor of the establishment, ‘I know.’ He looked up and the emotion was gone, now replaced with a deadly glare, one befitting the myth he had made himself into. Pointedly glaring at Cameron, he spoke, ‘You jeopardize my assignment and I won’t think twice before getting rid of you.’ 

Then, he walked away, not even waiting to note the expression on either of their faces. That should do to take the target off of Lauren, or so he thought as he walked out. Even if Kieran hadn’t been explicit, Belladona now knows that Lauren is a part of his assignment. What happens if Cameron doesn’t stop? He did not want to think about that, making his mind over what next to do. 

Deciding upon it, and choosing to walk straight ahead, he let go of the thought of making amends. He had done enough damage to Cam as well as their unlikely friendship when he picked the knife. If the only other choice he had was death, did it even matter to call it a choice? 

Belladona laughed at her misfortune. If only life was easy. Life wasn’t as easy as she had expected it to be, even after strangling her morals with each corpse she walked over. Watching the confrontation and watching Kieran walk out, Belladona had only become more confused than before. Cameron swirled on his stool, facing Belladona, ‘You forgot to tell me in our little catch up that my assignment and _that man’s,_ are overlapping?’ 

So, he didn’t know either? Things were surely getting interesting. Downing her drink, she fingered the edge of her glass, ‘Was I supposed to? I thought _you_ were the information gatherer.’ 

Cameron bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. He was supposed to meet the Messenger five minutes ago. He got up from the stool, akin to a man burnt at the stake, except for the yelping. Running towards the back of the establishment, he left Belladona all to herself. 

Keeping a narrowed gaze on Cameron’s form, Belladona stood up and made for the door. Lauren is part of Kieran’s assignment so that means the Leader wouldn’t be too happy if Kieran ends up in the spotlight. But Lauren is also an investment, whatever it entailed, for Apostle VII, or so had Cameron said. 

Then, why did VII’s Messenger give her permission to do as she pleases? She had done enough assassinations for VII for him to know that she _assassinates_ to clear the board of useless pieces. She needed answers and there was only one person that could provide them. The only, and most important, problem was that she wasn’t exactly a wanted guest anymore. 

__________

Manila paper, typed and bearing no signature at any end, the envelope sat at Lauren’s desk. 

Who could have kept this letter here? Noting the open balcony window, Lauren moved to take the dagger out of her desk drawer. Who could possibly be daft enough to break into the Chief’s home? More importantly, could the intruder still be inside? Satisfied with checking every corner of her office and discontented at finding no clue at all, she went to the balcony, noting that the only thing different was the open door. Not even a single shoeprint was visible and not even a single object was out of place in her office. 

Disgruntled she opened the envelope, glaring at the letter that fell out as if it could answer her queries on behalf of its writer. Picking up the letter from the floor, nonchalantly, she walked over to shut the balcony door. Her hands and eyes froze to the words. Foregoing shutting the balcony door, she came back to her desk. As she went over the contents of the letter, incredulity, ire, musing, despondency and horror flitted over her face in a queue, over and over again. 

Knife still held tightly in one hand, she leaned on her desk for support. Lost in reading the letter, she barely noticed the figure discreetly climbing the walls of Sinclair Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here you can see in the end, Lauren’s reactions to the five stages of grief. It was SO FUN to write it. Oh my, the angst, and introduced by my most loved form of communication. Letters, letters, letters. What do they contain? Who wrote them?
> 
> _Manila paper, typed and bearing no signature at any end,_
> 
> hehehe
> 
> I also edited the previous chapters slightly because those huge blocks or paragraphs and horrible dialogue distribution was finally getting worse than my headaches. If you’d like, give it a read again to compensate for all the pain your eyes have been through because of my horrible formatting skills HAHAHAHA
> 
> Song: [Silhouette](https://open.spotify.com/track/0ygOBx60exSPPvnI4sS28r?si=rNMiARJgSiqeBMR6SIP6Lw) by Aquilo
> 
> Love, Peace.


	14. To a game that can't be won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knife in her hands, balefully pointing in his direction, wisps of hair come undone from a high bun, Lauren stood at the balcony door, a gleaming vision in white and a contradictory, irked scowl on her face.

A scruff sound caught Lauren’s attention. Spinning to face the balcony, she saw a silhouette climbing up to the balcony wall.

Spinning the knife in her hands, she bunched up the letter soundlessly, placing it over Dylan’s photograph tucked under a journal. With light footsteps and a heavy set of caution, she approached the balcony, knife at the ready. Running through the mental list of people that were after her and finding it to be an anxiety inducer, she decided the best course of action would be to stab the intruder and push them off.

The most important point of an ambush was catching the opponent by surprise, and so, Lauren waited, a crouched tigress, as the curtains fluttered about in the wind. The intruder, a man, caught hold of the balcony capering over the edge and finally sitting on the wall. Something familiar about the shadow caught her eye.

She hesitated.

A heavy gust of wind parted the curtains quite a long way and Lauren breathed a sigh of relief more than all other emotions. Throwing the curtains to the side, she fixed herself at the balcony door, ‘Oh, it’s _you_! What are you doing here?’

Shifting at the sound, Kieran regarded her curiously, sitting on the wall of the balcony, legs hanging haphazardly over either side. A knife in her hands, balefully pointing in his direction, wisps of hair come undone from a high bun, Lauren stood at the balcony door, a gleaming vision in white and a contradictory, irked scowl on her face. He smirked at the knife in her hand, ‘ **That’s quite a warm welcome you got there.** ’

Lauren rolled her eyes. Waving the knife at him, she trudged, ‘Which you would have received if I _hadn’t_ recognized you.’ His infuriating smirk only grew at that. Moving to the edge, she looked over noting the height. Out of all the people in the world, it was just her luck to be stuck with not just one, but two acrobats, jumping from and over balconies, windows, ledges and roofs, all alike.

Placing the knife between them, she rested her arms on the wall, breathing in the cold night air. It eased her irritation. Her mind had always been particularly good at weaving tragedies and dare she say, Kieran’s humor was a welcome distraction. Kieran picked up the knife, twirling it around. Lauren turned to look at him over the cross of her arms, bafflement in the knitting of her brows, as evident as the sky was dark, ‘How did you even know which window?’

Kieran kept spinning the knife, ‘ **Had a hunch.** Everybody else is asleep.’ No, he didn’t. He had paid attention. He probably even saw her silhouette through the window. He spoke up, ‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to sleep. So, I came as soon as I found out.’

Lauren nodded. She may have been conscious but she wasn’t present. Kieran couldn’t help staring at her in concern. As if still in a sleepy stupor, Lauren realized she had missed the important part of his sentence a minute late. Straightening up, she questioned, ‘Found out?’

In answer, Kieran hunched even more than before. He bit out, ‘Cameron Grey.’ He let the name sit in the air for a minute, then, he continued, ‘The man you saw. His name is Cameron Grey. Apparently, he’s under _someone’s_ orders to be following you.’ She hadn’t imagined that part of her day at least.

‘So, he _was_ following us,’ she let the truth linger in the air.

Unfortunately, things had never been easy for Lauren, as evidenced by Kieran’s next words, as he pointed the knife at her, ‘No. Just _you_. Would you have any idea why?’

Someone from the Scythe following her. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, ‘Not really. No.’ Then, she eyed Kieran, scolding him, ‘Would you climb off of there?’

Face turned to a mocking of shock, he put a hand on his chest, ‘Entering a lady’s room at this time of night? Hardly befitting of a gentleman.’

Lauren rolled her eyes, and despite herself she snorted. The letter had been enraging and Kieran, although highly likely to get on her nerves, was a welcome distraction. When he failed to budge from his seat over the wall, she scoffed, ‘It isn’t my bedroom. It’s my _office_.’

Kieran stopped spinning the knife. Turning a more serious expression, he spoke up, ‘He will be following you, unfortunately, so don’t _actively_ seek him out.’

‘So, I just let a stalker stalk me?’, she glared at Kieran, crossing her arms.

Kieran held up his hands, unwilling to fight over this, ‘Whoever gave the order probably doubts you already, and if you act on what I just told you, it’ll be even _more_ suspicious, don’t you think?’ He stared at her, eyes a pleading clutter.

She nodded, turning to lean against the wall, arms crossed in front of her. The chill of the night began to seep deeper into her bones, but her eyes were stuck on her board that she could make out in the darkness of the room. There was, however, one possibility why someone would follow her, and that probably was the worst of them all. ‘Could the leader have perhaps found out? About us?’

Kieran shook his head, ‘The leader couldn’t have ordered him.’ Pausing, he added, ‘He was a traitor to the Scythe.’ Why would the leader let a traitor to the Scythe live?

Mind going over the time they were interrogating Anslow, Lauren connected the dots, ‘Is that why his finger was missing?’

Kieran stopped spinning the knife, budging it into a slight crack in the wall. Lauren could feel the tension rise in the atmosphere, and she could only imagine that it was emanating from Kieran. Placing the knife on the wall, Kieran admitted, ‘The Scythe isn’t the best place unless you follow orders.’

A sentence posed as a question, and Lauren finished it, ‘So, they torture you when you don’t.’ The lack of response from Kieran was enough of an answer. Lauren couldn’t help but ask, ‘And are you sure that’s him?’ She didn’t look at Kieran when she asked the question, but she had to be sure.

‘I’m not lying, am I?’

Lauren knew that, and so did Kieran. Quick to rush to her defense before Kieran could misunderstand, she spun to clarify, ‘What I meant was he could be using a fake name?’ That was, after all, a valid concern. Unfortunately for Lauren, Kieran knew exactly who they were dealing with.

The confrontation from earlier had left him too drained to steer around her ability. He chose to tell her the whole truth, ‘I’ve known that man since he was a child. Cam is just ano –’,  
or at least most of it, ‘he’s just a victim of the Scythe.’ Upon hearing that, Lauren nodded and leaned against the wall once more, lost in thought.

What was he even going to say? He was just _another_ victim? Like himself? She would believe that, he had no doubt about it, but how could he say those words when his own count ran far longer and higher than the rest of the Scythe assassins combined. Why did he even come here in the first place? Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe he was only destined for ruin, to cause it and to live in it, and perhaps, that is why, he accepted all the chaos in his life with open arms.

Breaking the silence that had overtaken them, he spoke up, ‘There’s one more thing I found out. Actually, a while ago.’

Lauren asked, ‘What is it?’

Noting the absence of words, she turned to him, again. He looked at her, a mix of emotions on his face. In warning before saying what he had to, he whispered, ‘You won’t like it.’

Matching his tone, she leaned into his space, holding his gaze, ‘Go on.’

The conflict was easily readable on his face. He breathed out after an eternity of tension, choosing to bite the bullet. As matter-of-factly as he could, he began to explain, ‘Someone had to have approved my job application? So, I searched Hermann’s office for my file. I thought maybe it could help me weed out the other spies in the police ranks, possibly VII’s spies.’

Lauren nodded. Kieran looked at her, the conflict in his eyes turning to a rudimentary emotion. Regret. Lauren had been holding his gaze for the whole time, and watching his decidedness turn into pitiful regret was grating on her nerves. Sorrow in his eyes, he relayed what he had found out, ‘I found out that I was hired based on a recommendation.’

Lauren was expecting that. There were more spies than just Kieran in the precinct. ‘Whose?’, as she asked this of him, somehow, she got a feeling that it wasn’t going to be an easy answer. Someone in her own precinct could still likely be working in favor of the Scythe. Kieran paused at her question, the answer seemingly too hard for him to utter, or maybe he did so out of consideration for her. He had already watched her be dejected over Harvey being a member of the Scythe. 

‘Ren? You’re still awake. _Huh._ ’

Tristan opened the door to Lauren’s office to find an unlikely scene. Clearing his throat, he jeered, ‘I thought I was past the phase of chasing away boys from your window, young lady.’

Jerking back to reality, Lauren breathed out, ‘Uncle’, at the same time as Kieran mumbled, ‘Chief Sinclair.’ Sneaking a look at Kieran’s bemusement, like a cat caught with a canary, Lauren’s smile curved to a cross between chagrin and facetiousness. 

The teasing edge to Tristan’s voice was as extant as always, though too well concealed for Kieran to observe. He walked over to them, crossing the distance fairly quickly for a man moving like a specter. Adjusting his spectacles, he drawled, ‘I was sure it would’ve been Kym. So, this must be your mysterious _date_?’ He quirked up an eyebrow at them both.

First at the precinct with Will and Kym, and now _here_ , at her _home_. There was no doubt in her mind, that the pair of them looked much like a pair of lovers, meeting at the brink of dusk, for solace and peace in the late midnight hours. Narrowing her gaze at Kieran’s coat, she calmed at the absence of his sword. Now, _that_ would be a fun little detail to explain to her uncle without him getting suspicious. At least they wouldn’t have to convince anyone of their dating if these chance encounters kept on happening.

Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, Lauren hummed a _yes_ , as Kieran slid off of his perch atop the wall. Kieran straightened up as he looked at Lauren for any and all cues. Moving to introduce himself, he shook the man’s hand, ‘Kieran White, Chief Sinclair.’

Two good shakes and a firm hold. Recognition lit up the Chief’s face, ‘Ah, yes the new archivist at the precinct, correct?’

Kieran smiled politely, ‘Yes, sir.’

Tristan kept a steady, albeit under all the layers amiable, glare fixed at him. Kieran didn’t back down either, in understanding of the game they were playing. Suddenly conscious of the position they were in, the real one as well as the fake, Lauren cleared her throat. Gesturing between them, she began, ‘This is not how I intended for you two to meet.’

Catching on to her train of thought, Kieran turned a look of pure adoration to Lauren, feigning coyness in front of Tristan, ‘I only came to see her this late because I was worried.’

Glare softening a little, Tristan asked, eyes still narrowing, ‘And you preferred the window because?’

The Chief of Police wasn’t a man to let someone go without an interrogation, much less the probable suitor for his little girl. It was ultimately, but, a game of quips. When Tristan drew Rationality, Kieran answered back with Timidity, ‘All the lights were off except from her office. I did not mean to be a bother.’

Then, going in for the win, he drew Adoration to level the playing field, ‘I couldn’t help but feel anxious. When she collapsed at the precinct, it scared me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should see her.’

Tristan’s brow furrowed at that. All show of charisma washed away in concern, ‘You collapsed at the precinct?’

Shock evident on her face, she did not know whether to focus on the fact that Kieran hadn’t lied or on the fact that he was now a labelled traitor for tattling to her uncle. Kieran turned to her as well, faux shock residing over amusement, ‘You didn’t even tell _your uncle_ , Lauren?’

Lauren found herself under the watchful gaze of both of them. Pointedly glaring at Kieran, she turned to her uncle, putting on an air of unbothered, ‘ **It wasn’t an issue.** ’

Taking the chance to turn the conversation around, Kieran added, ‘She also fell while chasing a suspect on patrol.’

That incorrigible _traitor_. Nerves bulging out on her forehead, she jabbed at Kieran, ‘ **I didn’t even get a scratch.** ’

Kieran rebutted, ‘And yet, you are off of work for an entire week.’

They glared at each other as they refuted back and forth, and in doing so, failed to notice Tristan smirking at them both. Concern overtaking amusement, voice drowning in reprimand, Tristan cut off her argument, ‘Lauren? Thank you for telling me this, Mr. White.’ Turning to sooth her, he placed both his hands on her shoulder, ‘You must take care of yourself, Lauren.’

She smiled at his concern, ‘Yes, uncle. Don’t worry so much. **I will.** ’

Then, he stepped back, eyes weighing up Kieran, ‘I will not be letting _this_ slide. Your date must come to the party for New Year’s.’

If earlier he had been urging Lauren to invite his mysterious date, now he surely wouldn’t let this chance pass him by. Lauren exclaimed, ‘No! I mean,’ then, sobering her argument with cause, she explained, ‘ **he has other plans**.’

Tristan drew his brows at that. Turning to Kieran, he reasoned, ‘I’m sure you can take some time out of your busy schedule Mr. White.’ This _dating_ thing was turning out to be quite a trump card, and mostly for all the wrong reasons.

Kieran hesitated to answer, trying to catch Lauren’s expression from the corner of his eye. Lauren shrugged at him; insouciance embedded in her form. Uncertainly, he began, ‘Yes? Of course, if you’d have me.’

Tristan clapped his hands, beaming at both of them, ‘Then, that’s settled. I will be expecting you, Kieran.’

Kieran beamed back, ‘It will be my pleasure.’ Before the lull of silence could make things awkward, Kieran interjected, gesturing to the door, ‘I should leave. My apologies again, Chief Sinclair.’

Thanking the gods, that Kieran hadn’t brought his sword with him, Lauren presumed her uncle’s assent, ‘I’ll walk him to the door.’ She ushered him out of the door by the shoulders, leading him down the staircase. Tristan followed after them, stopping at the edge of the staircase.

Kieran winced slightly as Lauren nearly shoved him down the stairs in hurry, ‘Alright, _Ren_.’ Lauren froze at the nickname, dropping her hands to the side. Shaking his head at the tension she now held, Kieran muttered, ‘Sorry. It suits you though.’

_Ren! There you are!_

Shaking herself out of the memory, Lauren smiled weakly at him. Kieran lingered by the door, mouth turned into the shape of words he wanted to say. Before he could, Tristan spoke up, now at the edge of the staircase, ‘And Mr. White? Doors exist for a reason. Use them next time.’

Pretending to fluster a little at the jab, he smiled in Tristan’s direction, ‘Yes, sir.’ Still, he waited looking at Lauren in indecision. Making up his mind, he grabbed Lauren by the shoulders. Leaning forward, as if to kiss her cheek, he whispered in her ear, ‘Your uncle’s.’

_Her uncle’s? Her uncle’s. The recommendation. Kieran’s recommendation._

Stepping back and letting go of her, he looked Lauren in the eyes, remorse and pity rocking his shore, shock gracing hers. Voice gentle, only for her to hear, he spoke, ‘Take care, Lauren. I’ll see you.’ Moving closer to the door, he called out to the watchful figure at the top of the stairs, ‘Goodnight, Chief Sinclair.’ With that, Kieran White walked out of Sinclair Manor, sparing not a single glance back, leaving Lauren to herself.

A strong urge to stop Kieran and demand more answers, reasoning from him simmered in Lauren, but she hesitated, instead staying stock still and glaring holes through the shut door. Noticing Lauren’s unwavering gaze at the shut door, Tristan remarked, ‘Ah, young love.’ Lauren turned to face him. Taking the steps back up, she moved slowly. Tristan shook his head, in fond memory, ‘I still remember when your father would climb over to your mother’s window, and Dakan and I would be right below, jostling him over the walls.’

Upon reaching the top, she looked at her uncle, a beaming smile on his face, and undoubtedly hidden pain underneath. That pain never seemed to leave him; despite the magnificent job he did at hiding it. Catching his elbow, she walked the length of the hallway with him. Her world was always meant to burn down to the ground, but maybe, just maybe, she could savor it for a moment more. Lauren chuckled, ‘Is that when Mrs. Pennyworth would chase all of you over to the other end of the neighborhood?’

The teasing lilt back in his voice, he mocked, with an inkling of faux rebuke, ‘Despite how _amusing_ and _romantic_ it might be, this will not be becoming a habit, young lady.’

Lauren nudged him in the side as he laughed. She scoffed, ‘It’s not like that, uncle.’

Patting her hand in understanding, he smiled, ‘Just stay safe and happy, no matter what you do. That’s all I ask of you.’ Then, he paused, eyes turning distant, ‘Rachel and Alex would want that too.’

Her eyes lost a bit of their light at the mention of her parents. How far could she run from her past? Especially when it was so intertwined with her present, her future. Well, if they could stop Apostle VII, that is. They reached her bedroom door. Hesitating, voice low, Lauren asked, ‘They didn’t deserve it, did they?’ Eyebrows knitting together in question, Tristan waited for her to elaborate. Lauren continued, voice small and unsure, ‘They didn’t deserve to die?’

Tristan breathed out, ‘Ren,’ caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. Unable to meet her eye, he stated with conviction, ‘Of course, they didn’t.’ Holding her hand in the crook of his elbow, he said, ‘They deserved to be here today, with all of us.’

That was enough of an answer for Lauren. She bid him goodnight, and entered her room, closing the door behind her. All of the day’s events had changed quite a lot of things for her. She crashed on her bed, no hint of sleep in the midst of her restless thoughts and overturning fears. Her world would burn down to the ground no matter what she did. Maybe it had burned down with Allendale and she was simply refusing to accept the broken shards and charcoaled husks of it.

Her world would be burning down no matter what anyway. All she could do, then, was to keep in mind the simple truths that stayed with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter and Kieran’s introduction to Tristan was THE most fun part and I was WHEEZING the whole time, but then of course, I HAD to add in the angst. Mostly, I had to write Lauren and Kieran’s soft interaction in this chapter, and I guess, it would do you, readers well to keep in mind the simple truths littered throughout the chapters as well. *wink wink*
> 
> Song: [Empty Gold](https://open.spotify.com/track/6oNDJSnkY0O4UIcgU8kwyz?si=Z01zEqTVS3i0q7VNv6jdQw) by [Halsey](https://open.spotify.com/artist/26VFTg2z8YR0cCuwLzESi2?si=QnNxLNZaS0K7bNvy2gs1dA)
> 
>  _{Heedless of the company they had, he pressed a light kiss to the side of her head, rubbing her shoulders a bit as if sensing her broken faith. Stepping back and letting go of her, he looked Lauren in the eyes, remorse and pity rocking his shore, shock gracing hers. Voice gentle, only for her to hear, he spoke, ‘Take care, Lauren. I’ll see you.’}_ Leaving this here, because it is the softest moment ever that I can’t see happening just yet. This chapter would have been hella softer but it didn’t feel right so I had to make changes.
> 
> And also, [Fierce Flame](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/s2-ep-71-fierce-flame/viewer?title_no=1621&episode_no=74) was WILD?!?!?! I was so SHOCKED ISTG!!! And I’m also kinda sorta proud of myself for having gotten Damnnport and Sake at the circus without knowing that they’ll end up at the circus. It’s the little things, you know? I will NOT be over this chapter and I know the ones that are coming up will just sucker punch my sanity into oblivion. *shrugs* This is the hill I choose to die on lol
> 
> Hope you had fun reading this chapter, well until the last few paras anyway HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> Love, Peace.


	15. This city never sleeps at night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He jeered at the bags underneath her eyes, ‘Do you even _sleep_?’
> 
> Rolling her eyes at him, Lauren retorted, ‘Didn’t fancy the window today?’

Frantic knocking drew Lauren into reality. To say that it drew her from sleep wouldn’t be right, the navy-blue tinge under her eyes speaking volumes about her destructive habits. Lucy’s voice drilled holes into the wood of the door, ‘Lady Lauren, you have a guest.’

Calling out to her to tell her that she’ll be down shortly; Lauren dragged a hand through her hair. Discarding the towel in her hand, she opened the door, forehead crinkled in surprise even though she was already dressed to face the day. ‘Who is it?’, she asked Lucy, peeking out from behind the door, but Lucy had already left. Descending the staircase, she recognized the messy hair waiting by the door, smiling politely in what was, supposedly, Lucy’s ardent stare from the kitchen.

A hefty collection of files that he was holding onto just fine, Kieran stood at the base of the staircase. Upon noticing Lauren, he looked at her, eyes betraying nothing. She glared at him, ignoring the questioning look Lucy threw at both of them, ‘It’s six in the morning.’

Kieran chuckled, ‘Good morning to you, too.’ Shrugging with the files in his hands, he dithered, unsurely looking at Lucy, ‘I come bearing gifts.’

Taking the hint, Lauren pointed Kieran in the direction of the stairs. She turned to Lucy, then, ‘We’ll be upstairs in my office.’

‘Would you be taking breakfast upstairs as well?’, Lucy asked before they could leave, well devised though in good faith. Lauren never refused breakfast in the presence of guests.

Taking the stairs two at a time, leading Kieran by the elbow, Lauren called out, ‘Sure.’

Lauren held the door of her office open for Kieran. Entering her office, Kieran began, ‘Your uncle already left; we have a _lot_ of things to get done, and I cannot stay for long.’ Having set the files down on her table, he jeered at the bags underneath her eyes, ‘Do you even _sleep_?’

Rolling her eyes at him, Lauren retorted, ‘Didn’t fancy the window today?’ She walked over to inspect the files that seemed to belong to the precinct.

Kieran threw his hands up, ‘On the off chance that your uncle stayed behind, no. He looked about ready to murder me yesterday.’ Moving to inspect the book shelf, he took a breath in. There was no time for hesitation or indecision. Thumbing the spine of a novel, he spoke, ‘I have a meeting with the Messenger in two days. I may also be able to get a hold of the man I told you about. Soon.’ 

Thumbs twiddling over the _borrowed_ records on her desk, she asked, ‘The one that can forge identities? These are records from Greychapel.’

‘We could use the identities of missing people from these files,’ Kieran spoke, spinning to face her, ‘and then I could leave the bodies in an explosion.’

The records were from xx19 to about three years ago. Lauren nodded in understanding. ‘Your tracks would be covered and the bodies would be hard to recognize.’ She paused, turning her head up to look at Kieran, ‘But that isn’t how the Purple Hyacinth operates. Wouldn’t that be suspicious?’

Kieran walked over to her, speaking confidently, ‘If I report that the situation escalated, it wouldn’t be an issue.’ He took the file in her hands to press open a certain set of pages. Pointed to the highlights sticking out at various ends, he explained, ‘I narrowed it down to a few profiles, mainly belonging to people that seemed like they could pull this off. Being Lune. What _you_ need to do, is choose two men from these files and make sure they really are missing.’

Lauren hummed, pressing the spine of the record flat against the table, ‘Wouldn’t want supposed dead men turning up alive later.’

‘Or for that matter, innocents getting tortured.’ Kieran added.

This _man_. This _myth_. Lauren looked at him from the corner of her eye. It had to be a miracle or some kind of sorcery that Kieran looked as fresh as someone with decent sleep, and yet, his eyes were deadened and weary, unbecoming of a man his age. ‘What about you?’, she asked, sounding less like an inquiry of his role and more along the lines of actual concern.

Shifting his gaze from the open report to Lauren, Kieran froze. At her words. At her gaze. At her sincerity. Lauren did that to him, an anomaly of surprise when he had least expected one. ‘ _I_ should be getting to work soon,’ he answered, straightening up, ‘I’ll keep going over the files in the archives to find out about the woman in the Camelia. I’ll let you know what I’ll find,’ he questioned, ‘at the party, I suppose?’ 

Confused, Lauren glared at him, ‘So, no investigating for a week? What about the docks?’

As if receiving a prophecy, Kieran’s brows rose up in recollection, ‘No nightly dates for _you_ for a week,’ fiddling in his coat pocket, he took out a manila scrap of paper.

‘I received a letter yesterday, _supposedly_ , spilling details on the shipments. Apostle VII’s shipments into Ardhalis.’

He handed the letter to Lauren. Manila envelope, typed and bearing no signature at any end. Lauren’s eyes widened. Snatching the letter from its hold, Lauren began to go over the contents of the letter. Recalling the contents of the letter out loud, Kieran eyed her collection of books. He stopped at the board beside the shelf. Most of the pages stuck to it had yellowed at the corners, dust and decay bearing witness to just how long they must have been put up. Tracing the threads over the articles, old as well as new, he stopped noticing the picture on the board.

If Kieran received a letter as well, and their contents weren’t even same then there had to be another traitor in the Scythe. Someone who knows even _more_ than they do. Bracing herself with her hands on the desk, Lauren breathed out, ‘I received a letter too. Before you showed up.’

‘And you never thought to bring it up?’, Kieran retorted half-heartedly, eyes still fixated on the board in front of him. 

Taking a deep breath, justifying, ‘It’s not like either of us got a chance yesterday,’ she turned with the letter in her hands, ‘and the contents of my letter are different. _Personal_.’ Lauren looked at Kieran, back turned and eyes fixed on her board.

Distantly, Kieran stated, ‘That’s the picture you found on Anslow.’ He turned to face her. Giving Lauren no chance to reply, he spoke up, ‘Your personal business is yours. I will not meddle in it; I give you my word.’ He held up a finger, ‘However, the moment it becomes even slightly relevant to our mission, you _must_ let me know.’

Lauren nodded. Hesitantly, she began, ‘About my uncle,’ only to be interrupted by Kieran.

‘It could be forged, you know, but you should still be careful.’

The implications of Tristan being a part of the Scythe or associated to them in any manner at all were far too grave to dismiss or take lightly. Kieran looked to the window, avoiding Lauren’s gaze and letting the fact sink in.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he speculated, ‘The dates in the letter are for January. I’ll infiltrate the docks after my meeting with the Messenger so we can check the credibility of these dates.’ Given that Flemmings remained the only merchant that hadn’t been caught yet, they had a greater chance of uncovering more tangible evidence against VII’s puppets.

‘Maybe we could uncover another associate as well.’

Lauren crossed her arms, facing him, ‘You still haven’t told me what happened at Grimm Goblin.’

Kieran shrugged.

‘Unfortunately, not much, except for Belladona’s little mission which I consider handled for now.’

They had found out so much and yet the threat over Lune was still one of their greater concerns. Having Lune off of the board surely wouldn’t play to their advantage but at the same time Kieran couldn’t afford to lose favour with the Leader either. Fingers twiddling with the sleeve of her dress, she asked, ‘What will you tell the Messenger?’

Steering closer to Lauren, hands in his pockets, Kieran suggested, ‘The names of the people you’ll let me know. That should do enough to feed the Leader’s curiosity for now. Ask for an extension?’ Would the Leader give him more of an extension? _That_ had never happened before. He had _never_ needed an extension before. Surely, it couldn’t hurt to ask when no one at all had any leads on Lune.

None of the events that were unfolding eased Lauren’s anxieties. Before Lauren could spiral over all of it, Lucy showed up with a knock on the door, providing breakfast as well as a much-needed distraction for her. Thanking her as she left, Lauren asked Kieran, ‘And when your assignment is over, do you think the Leader will remove you from the precinct?’

Kieran shook his head, ‘I doubt it. He planted me there for a reason. I should leave, or else I will be late.’

As he opened the door, Lauren jabbed, ‘Since when do you care about your job?’

He replied, ‘Since it keeps me alive.’

Lauren’s hand froze at the handle. Of course, it does. It didn’t even matter if he was talking about his job as the Purple Hyacinth or as an archivist. It all just comes down to survival and staying alive. Shaking her head, she walked after him.

__________

Waking up never did feel like enough of a good thing for William, especially when last night had been a complete ruckus. His mother’s condition had worsened over the night. Although, she lay stock still on her bed, as her nurse took care of her, William was unnerved to have been at home.

Getting ready for work, he strutted off to the end of the hallway. Opening the door, readying himself for another façade of being cheery, his form deflated, somewhat with relief at seeing his mother asleep. His eyes swept away to her bedside table littered with various little vials and then, to the bowl containing her pain medication.

Patricia sat by his mother’s side, jotting down her vital signs. She turned around at the sound of the door, greeting William. William replied in kind, wordlessly moving to the hallway, once he had registered his mother’s face and the way she was still breathing. Thanking the gods above for her life, and cursing them for her misery, he walked out of Hawkes Manor, ready to embrace the lull of his duties at the precinct.

Mind fogged with worry; William only assumed that he had been doing a good enough job of keeping his grip on reality. He realized that he had failed to do so when he ran into the new archivist, making his tray topple, coffee spilling out and missing Kieran’s clothes by a gracious wave of his arm.

‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there, Mr. White.’

Truly apologetic, he held out his hand for the tray.

Kieran waved him off, ‘It’s alright, Lieutenant. Coffee?’

His mind may have been more into the precinct if he had the additional tension of keeping up with Kym’s antics but _alas!_ The one day he would have welcomed her pesky distractions, she had to be on leave. Accepting the mug, he sighed, ‘Thank you.’ Then, reminiscing, he stopped Kieran in his tracks with a wave of his hand.

‘About yesterday,’ he began to speak, only to be interrupted by Kieran, ‘Lauren is fine.’

William blinked back. As did Kieran.

Confused, William explained, ‘I meant to ask you if I could have the files that Sergeant Ladell was going over yesterday.’ Then, understanding dawned on William, yesterday’s events coming back to him in a flash, ‘ _But_ it is also good to know that Lauren is fine.’ Losing his grip was easier when yesterday seemed a lifetime ago with the horrifying night in his mind that he had borne witness to. They both smiled at each other in uneasiness, caught unaware, William, having had her good friend’s health slip out from his mind, and Kieran, not being able to worry over anyone else but Lauren.

Putting actual thought into Hawkes’ request, Kieran mused, tucking the now-empty tray under his arm, ‘Sergeant Ladell didn’t get files from the archive yesterday.’

Wait. What? Then, what had been Kym doing for the past week?

‘That’s peculiar. She had her head buried in files all day, and I know for a _fact_ those weren’t the reports she needed to submit.’

William drew his brows together in thought. What had been Kym doing? It surely wasn’t a trivial matter because he had noticed how Kym had dulled down, confined to her seat even during their breaks. Hunched over work and a thoughtful, grim expression on her face, did _not_ , _at all_ , suit the lively Sergeant. Taking his observation into account, Kieran ran the week’s events through his mind, finding only one common denominator.

‘Now that I think about it, the last file that she asked for was quite old.’

_Daniel Ladell’s case._

William perked up at it, asking, ‘Oh, then, would you kindly get me _that_ file?’

He nodded, ‘Of course, Lieutenant.’

Spinning back in the direction of the hallway, he paused. William noted the hesitation in Kieran’s form. If Hawkes didn’t even know what case Ladell had been viewing, she surely wouldn’t want to talk about it either. He began to say just that, but refrained from further involving himself in the lives of the people that Lauren cared about.

Smiling, he left with just one piece of advice for the oblivious Lieutenant, ‘You know, talking _to_ her would be more helpful for you than trying to retrace her thought process.’ Before William could protest or agree, Kieran left. When William got back to his seat, a new file lay on his desk.

'November 14, xx17: The murder near Saint Peter’s in Greychapel’, William murmured to himself, rubbing the remnants of yesterday’s anxiety from his eyes. Straining his eyes to get through the ancient file, he began to read, eyes widening with every single word. He had barely gone through the first page and all tiredness had left him completely. Flipping the pages, front and back, all his fatigue left him. To him, his entire world view had changed and neither of the people that knew him most were around to quiet his treacherous heart, that seemed to want to shatter and beat out of his chest.

Gazing at Kym’s empty desk, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. No wonder Kym had been so earnest in her work, despite her personality. No wonder Kym put in tireless effort to become Sergeant and maintained her sense of duty as diligently as she did. How many times was everything he knew going to turn like this? Going to turn on him like this? Throwing the file, decidedly on his desk, William ran a hand through his hair. How long had he known Kym Ladell? How could he not know? He had no excuse for any of those.

Why did she never tell him? That, he knew. For all the world, it was easy to pretend that he absolutely despised the bubbly Sergeant. He did despise her at times, but she was still a friend. He had no doubt that Lauren must know. Despite it being him who had been plagued with Kym Ladell’s existence longer, it had always been Lauren who had been a better friend and the common denominator for their conversations and shenanigans.

The day was lost in the cruelty of his discovery.

As William prepared to leave, he sighed, gathering his coat. Today he had to be at his apartment. Kym was supposed to have taken her day off and use it for an infiltration, despite his protests against her going in alone. Plagued with the weight of his responsibilities and discoveries the whole way back, he calmed _only_ when he saw Kym waiting for him at his doorstep, unharmed and as jovial as ever.

Waving at him, she mocked a salute, ‘Records from the docks, sir.’

Once inside, she handed him a bunch of pages, making herself at home as she crashed on the couch. Resting her head on the back of the couch, she looked, upside down, at Will standing in the kitchen, ‘Copied, _just_ this once, in actual legible writing, so don’t get used to it.’ Viewing the contents only solidified his worst suspicions.

Raising his brow at her, he questioned, ‘I’m surprised you didn’t _borrow_ them.’

She whined, like a little child, ‘The security was infallible, _Willame_! I couldn’t _borrow_ them, though that would have been easier.’

William chortled, holding in a full laugh with his hand. Coming to sit down, he placed a glass of water in front of her. Just because Kym was exceptionally gifted and capable of handling unfavourable situations did not mean that he shouldn’t worry. Rubbing his face, he groaned, ‘Still, I strongly resent that you had to go by yourself.’

Amused and pretending to be disheartened, Kym scoffed, ‘I am offended at losing the chance to irk you as well, dear Lieutenant, but we don’t have the time for that.’

That was the one truth they could believe in. What they did have was the chance to make plans, and if they were lucky, they might be able to cause some damage to the Phantom Scythe. Ardhalis might end up burning down to the ground, and they had no time at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Kieran will show up to see Lauren **not because he’s worried** and look like perfection ~~despite a sleepless night worrying over her~~ , I don’t make the rules *shrugs* Btw, now, Will knows about DL but would he admit it to Kym? Another thing, that you may or may not have noticed, is --- I change how I refer to the characters when I’m trying to show a different perspective? Is it working? FYI Kieran has never called Will and Kym by their first names when he thinks about them.
> 
> Next up, will be *dun dun dun* THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY!!!!!
> 
> Song: [It’s Time](https://open.spotify.com/track/7MXlTgQeo3IVlMpLnZuhxc?si=RhHLu1cPQPqOLqTLM8KAbA) by [Imagine Dragons](https://open.spotify.com/artist/53XhwfbYqKCa1cC15pYq2q?si=ZG1DWxUoT_GS4ypAiSwJxg) because you now, it is time that the worst of it all begins. HEHEHEEHHE
> 
> Hope this was fun to read, as fun as it was to write :)
> 
> Love, Peace.


	16. All the words that leave my tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaning back over the edge of the staircase, momentarily distracted from Kym’s anecdotes, Lauren paled, ‘Oh no, I see William.’
> 
> Kym huffed, ‘ **I am _not_ fond of him**, Lauren, and still, that is quite the reaction to his presence.’

It never was easy to talk to Stefan Hawkes, much less make him understand a differing point of view. Drowning out his rage with the juice in his hand, Will protested, ‘All I’m saying is that Chief Sinclair would have understood.’

William and Stefan stood in the Sinclair’s hallway, in celebration of the new year, to welcome the future, although their hearts were lost to the tragedies stretched across the past. Walking over to the side of the room, Stefan spoke, ‘Your mother has always been ill. That does not, at all, mean that we should abandon our responsibilities.’

Disbelieving, Will sneered, ‘Attending a party is a responsibility?’

Josephine’s condition was worsening and they were here attending Chief Sinclair’s party in celebration of the new year. Although Will adored the Sinclairs, who had been the only ones to have understood and supported him outside of family, what he wanted to do more than anything was stay by his mother’s side. Stefan chided, ‘Must I always remind you, _boy_. It is simply unacceptable to deny any such invitation. This is the chance for you to forge worthwhile connections, as you are _supposed_ to.’

Will glared at the drink in his hands, on hearing Stefan’s words. The more that time passed, the more that Stefan became cold and distant, and the more it worked to fuel Will’s rage, feeding it into becoming the forest fire it was capable of being. Holding back from making a scene in the middle of the party, Will gritted his teeth.

‘When mother is bed ridden? Her condition –‘

Searching gaze ending up at the other end of the room, Stefan cut through Will’s worries, ‘It might even do you good to go and greet the Darcy girl. Roseanne was her name?’

What even are this man’s priorities if not his own wife and son? Tristan frowned as he overheard the conversation while making his way to the Hawkes. Josephine had been ill for far too long. They had to move on, that was understandable, but to blatantly dismiss young William’s concerns and leave his frustrations unacknowledged?

A man lost to the gravity of his fate, William followed his father’s line of sight, instantly deflating upon seeing the lady that it led to. The same discussion, over and over again, and yet neither was Stefan ready to acknowledge Will’s unreadiness nor was Will ready to acknowledge his father’s stubbornness. Nevertheless, taking a deep breath in, Will started to refute as a pat on the back caught his words. Chief Sinclair stood next to him, apprehension moving below the practiced amiable smile he always had at any occasion.

With a jovial laugh, he turned to William, ‘Young William, you should go and find your friends. Don’t you agree, Stefan? Good evening.’ Tristan smiled at the pair of them, moving to greet Stefan.

Slightly relieved at the change in topic, Will bowed in greeting, ‘Chief Sinclair, good evening.’

Stefan Hawkes stood his ground, shaking Tristan’s outstretched hand, ‘A good evening to you as well, Chief Sinclair.’

Huffing a light laugh, Tristan caught William’s eyes, silently allowing him to take leave. Stefan’s glare at William had the opposite effect, keeping him fixed in place. Solemnly, Tristan lamented, ‘I have to admit, being Chief keeps me busy even for social calls. Would you be so kind as to share some advice, Stefan?’

Ever since Alexander’s death, the ties between the Hawkes and the Sinclairs had taken a turn more towards obligation rather than cordiality. Though, Stefan Hawkes had been a steady presence, a paperweight helping hold the tattered remains of their lives, time had changed things. Stefan, absolutely, did not have the time for any such pretense anymore. He countered, ‘As I recall, we did meet when you came to discuss business with Lord Canterbury, and I am quite certain of your competence, Tristan.’

‘That could hardly be called as such, old friend.’

Tristan shot him a look. Old friend. His disentanglement over time, however subtle, hadn’t gone unnoticed. Yet, there was only so much Tristan could do. Though friends in name, all that they had remained to be, distant strangers in the waves of time. Caught in the tension of the moment, William gulped. Brows furrowing at his father’s civil discourtesy, William clenched his fist. This was _not_ how he had been expecting the night to begin, although he was aware it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant. At least Chief Tristan was ignoring his father’s reproaches and invectives.

Not one to be swayed easily, Stefan taunted, ‘Of course. You may have had more time if you didn’t have to deal with your niece and her,’ keeping his stare narrow and condemnatory, ‘ _incidents_.’

The jab flowed from Stefan, water in its transparency, cutting through the same as water as well, with spiteful, piercing energy. Tristan’s retort lost all its humor, ‘I’m afraid, I must leave if we are to keep up with this turn in conversation.’

There truly was anywhere else that Will would rather be. Even the prospect of getting scolded by Hermann _again_ was better than this. Thankfully for him, Lauren caught wind of the awkwardness by the edge of the stairwell. Leaning back over the edge of the staircase, momentarily distracted from Kym’s anecdotes, Lauren paled, ‘Oh no, I see William.’

Kym huffed, ‘ **I am _not_ fond of him**, Lauren, and still, that is quite the reaction to his presence.’

Rolling her eyes, Lauren pulled Kym to her side, ‘It’s not _for_ William. Uncle and his father are with him, and I can only assume the conversation is something he doesn’t want to be a part of.’

They both watched as the tension between Hawkes Senior and Tristan flitted throughout the manor in tangible waves. Though smiling, Lauren could tell that her uncle was a little bit upset. Though standing still, looking effortlessly calm, Kym could tell that Will was fidgeting in his _soul_. Kym and Lauren shared a look. Moving to get down the stairs, Lauren held Kym’s arm, ‘I’ll distract Hawkes Senior.’

Kym shook her hand off, ‘And I shall always remember your sacrifice.’

Unperturbed by the interruption, Lauren dragged Kym down the stairs, ‘And you must help Will escape.’

Kym wanted to run right back up the stairs, but leaving her friends to their own devices was never an option in her book. Yet still, she wasn’t a woman with no fears. Pouting, she mused, ‘William’s father is even more terrifying than Hermann.’

Lauren lied, ‘ **He’s not!** ’ At Kym’s disbelieving stare, she conceded, ‘Alright, yes, he is.’ Clasping Kym’s hand in her own, she pleaded, turning the persuasion in her eyes up a few notches, ‘Will needs our help.’ Kym exhaled deeply, as if seeming to consider agreeing, to what she had _already_ decided to do.

‘ _Cross my heart and hope to die, you’re giving me anxiety but I’ll comply_.’

With that, they walked over to the corner that had taken up a darker blight now. Tristan was only short of glaring as he said, ‘That is, after all, what one _must_ do for their children, Stefan. Stand by them and support them through their errors. It can’t be so long that you have forgotten having done the same for William.’

Stefan’s form couldn’t any clearly be radiating antagonism, anguish and audacity. An amalgamation of all three in his words, he jabbed, ‘Yes, that is what a _parent_ must do. **Except that William is _not_ a child anymore.** He _understands_ his duty to carry forward the legacy of his forefathers.’

Lauren let go of Kym’s hand a few feet from the debacle. Refusing to look back at Kym’s sympathetic eyes, she walked ahead slowly now. Nudging Kym to get William, Lauren broke into the conversation before it could take an even worse turn, ‘William! Uncle Stefan, good evening.’

Stefan regarded her then, ‘Lauren Sinclair. It is a surprise to see you acting your age for once.’ Tongue as sharp and crude as ever, especially when it comes to her.

She bowed, letting years of grace take over her fury, ‘ **It is nice to see you, as well**. I do hope Aunt Jo is keeping well.’

With no patience for keeping up with any façade of cordiality, Stefan bit back, as brutally honest as ever, ‘Her condition only worsens, but I’m sure you must already know that. How have you been? Not tormenting your poor uncle’s nerves, I believe?’

A game with boisterous winners and sore losers, and the worst of the hits were the best of them too. This was Stefan’s _beloved_ retort at every turn, at each one of their fateful squabbles. _Poor Tristan being tormented by his unruly ward!_ Coldly, she answered back, well aware of the tension running between the two, _especially_ since the past year, ‘I try my best, sir, and as you must already know **I’m the last person responsible for adding worry lines to his forehead**.’

William watched, just as Tristan did. Two flames burning to douse the other. Never could it work and yet, never would they cease, never would they order ceasefire. Stefan taunted, scrutinizing her every word, ‘I would ask William to look out for you, however, I’m sure you’ll be fine, what with your mother’s temperament.’

That was it. The below the belt hit that William and Tristan had been fearing, and from the looks of it, Lauren had been waiting for. Just that one moment when she could answer back without hesitation and it would be justified. Just once, that she would not be held back nor deemed at fault for. William began to intercede, ‘Father, I think that it- ‘, but Stefan held up his palm to William.

A man waiting to stoke the flames and set the world on fire, he further taunted, ‘Your pensive eyes aren’t the _only_ trait you share with Rachel.’ Words soft, truthful but the flicker in his eyes, beseeching bloodshed.

The hunger for rage grew louder in Lauren’s eyes, ‘So, I’ve been told.’

Unmatched, they both glared at each other, unwilling to back down, while Will was on the verge of tearing his hair out for the sake of his poor nerves. Being tugged on the arm, he looked back in surprise.

‘Lieutenant! Wouldn’t you indulge me for a dance?’

The precarious moment had been disintegrated by Kym Ladell’s entrance. As always being a beacon of light-hearted ridicule and all things calmly feasible, she bowed slightly at the men in greeting, dragging Will to the dance floor. Despite being apprehensive over the people left behind, he let himself be pulled, eager for the change of scene.

With a disapproving look, Stefan inquired, ‘Who would this young lady be, Tristan?’

Pride in his voice, Tristan beamed, ‘That is the _exceptionally_ talented Sergeant of the 11th precinct, Kym Ladell.’

‘Quite hefty words for someone so unremarkable.’

It was a standard occurrence for Stefan Hawkes to be disregarding and downright insulting to Lauren ever since her incident with Sake. She expected that, truly, but to have him disrespect the most genuine person in her life? As if she wasn’t the most remarkable person in the room, and surely much more virtuous and compassionate than Stefan Hawkes, himself? Nearing the end of her self-restraint, she began to fight back when a voice, the last voice she would usually want to hear, changed the atmosphere by its insertion.

‘Chief Sinclair, good evening.’

Lauren exclaimed, ‘Kieran!’ She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been any happier to see the man, and it showed on her face. From the delightful smirk on her uncle’s face and the genuine shock on Kieran’s, the joy had supposedly seeped into her voice as well.

Smirking at Lauren, he shook Kieran’s hand, ‘So _nice_ of you to show up, Kieran. I’m glad that you could take out the time.’

Wishing Senior Hawkes as well, he replied to Tristan, ‘The pleasure is all mine. I’m highly grateful for your invitation.’

As Stefan’s judging gaze roved over Kieran, Tristan whispered to Lauren, ‘Ren, go before you end up hurting him.’ Then, moving her by the shoulder towards Kieran, loudly he bespoke, ‘You both go and enjoy yourselves, I’m afraid we have quite a lot to talk about. I’ll find you later, Mr. White.’

They walked away, Lauren dragging Kieran by his arm. Stefan watched as the Sergeant, Kym Ladell, glared at her as they passed the dancers in the center. Ultimately, she nudged Kieran until the pair had no choice but to join in on the dance.

Impeccably dressed and well-mannered. Stefan couldn’t help but take notice of the man. Despite all adversities, he couldn’t help but a feel relaxed at the thought of Lauren spending her time with better people. Maybe that is exactly what she needed to prioritize her life and well-being over her self-assigned mission. Searching for remnants of a long-lost memory, testing out the name, he spoke, ‘Mr. White. Who exactly would this young lad be?’

‘Lauren’s date for the evening. He is the new hire in the precinct.’

The new hire in the precinct. The only such person Stefan had known about was an archivist. Disappointed, he admonished, ‘I should not have expected much. Yet still, an office romance? That too, with a lowly archivist?’

A part of high society, Lauren Sinclair did everything but act like one of them. She had the privilege and she had the arrogance that came with it. Yet, somehow defying norms, subverting the expectations people had from her, seemed to satisfy her need to be a better person, while she stayed protected from the weight of her actions in a bubble provided by the same stature that she publicly demurred. Ever willing to defend his beloved niece, Tristan spoke up, ‘I do not see any issue, Stefan.’

Of course, he doesn’t. Glaring in the direction of the pair engrossed in dancing, he chided, ‘It wasn’t enough for her to embarrass the entire police department over her foolishness, turning her professional standing to dust. Now, she would readily do the same to her societal image, yours as well, by linking herself with the likes of him.’ Turning his glare to Tristan, he added, ‘A well-mannered commoner is _still_ just a commoner.’

Tristan chuckled, and it was anything but light. If anything, it seemed to hold shock and sorrow, even pity. Adoration in his eyes, he looked ahead, ‘I could not care less, if it makes Little Ren happy. God knows she deserves happiness.’ A sidelong glance at Stefan, he protested, ‘The _last_ thing I would want is to put the weight of unwarranted expectations on her and watch her crumble. I’d rather support and guide her in whatever _she_ chooses.’

Stefan huffed at Tristan’s words. Unwarranted expectations? It seemed that Tristan had overheard the conversation between him and William. ‘Is that what this is about? I want William to lead a _good_ life.’

Weighing his words, Tristan spoke, ‘How does refusing him your kindness play into that? Or for that matter, forcing him into making decisions as _you_ would? Weren’t you hoping to do exactly that?’

He could play unaware but the truth is, he had always cared for young William. After Jo became ill, Will had caved in on himself in fear. He had seen the boy work too hard and turn himself into a tool for perfection to please his father, to make sure that he had one less thing to worry about and one more reason to be a bit more content. To say that it had been heart-breaking to watch William would be an understatement.

Turning to the window, Stefan rebuked, ‘What does _that_ matter?’

Taking a deep breath, Tristan queried, trying to make Stefan see what had become of his one and only child, ‘Do you think that could make him _happy_? Especially with how Josephine has been?’

An ocean breeze to a forest fire, it made no greater difference. Stefan warned, tone disapproving, as if they were still young boys and he had the authority from his greater years, ‘ _Tristan_. The things I do and the decisions I make are _not_ to fulfil his childish whimsies. Ultimately, someday, he will learn to be content _despite_ his circumstances. What I must do, is make sure that he is successful with good standing in society.’

That is not all that matters in a child’s life! That is not all that matters in life itself! There are always far more greater things, and surely, Stefan must see that freedom is one of them. Reaching out to Stefan, Tristan held his arm, ‘I want those things for Lauren as well, but I _must_ and I _will_ respect her choices. They aren’t little _children_ anymore. They have the _right_ to choose their own ending.’

Softly, Stefan spoke, ‘Which is why, I believe, she should know better than to risk her life over Scythe business. They cannot choose their own endings unless they are _alive_ to do so.’

Stefan looked back at Tristan over his shoulder, the beginnings of a softer emotion in his gaze, only to see the beginnings of something much graver and raw held in his eyes. Shocked at Stefan’s expression, or better yet fearful of his genuineness, Tristan took a step back. Voice low, he asked, ‘Stefan, what do you know?’ Avoiding his gaze, Stefan acted as if he never did hear the dreadful murmur.

The voice of another guest caught Tristan before he could press Stefan for more answers. He waited for Stefan to look at him, and when he did, his gaze lingered, shuddering, as if to convey that this wasn’t over. Taming the surprise on his face, he nodded, taking his leave, ‘Excuse me, I will be right back.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Paralyzed](https://open.spotify.com/track/5DHQKZCOZhGNTbYBCekWx0?si=HUlbkBoOTSeWrRsoihxH7g) by [NF](https://open.spotify.com/artist/6fOMl44jA4Sp5b9PpYCkzz?si=quN0IqXEQtCqX0WN-zsQlQ)
> 
> H: I HATE STEFAN!!!  
> B: Then, write him as a better character?  
> H: Dude, that spoils the entire point of this fic?  
> B: Then, write him like the asshat he is?  
> H: BUT I HATE WRITING HIM!!!  
> B: ….  
> H: (>_<)  
> B: ((+_+))
> 
> My AN s were getting too long so *shrugs* but let me ask you, 73? Did it break you as much as it broke me? Kudos to the fandom for coming up with the Darcy girl’s name. Also, happy holidays!!!!
> 
> Love, Peace.


	17. I hope I'm not my only friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music played on, the people around them danced without a change, and looking at Lauren, Kieran knew that everything had changed for her. For both of them, he supposed. Dialing down the surprise on his face, Kieran tugged Lauren to continue to move, lest someone notice it to be strange. Subtly leading them both to the edge of the room, Kieran leaned back to look at Lauren, brow arched, confusion clear as day, as he waited for her to speak.

Step after step, in line with the beat of the music, Lauren and Kieran, having relented to Kym’s protests, joined the growing crowd on the floor. They had things to discuss and the dance floor was the _last_ place to do so. Lauren trotted, absentmindedly almost, with a blank expression on her face, mind clearly lost in thought.

Drawing her into conversation, as they made a turn, Kieran teased, tugging slightly on her hand, ‘You know, it’s funny because for a minute you nearly looked _pleased_ to see me.’

Narrowing her gaze, Lauren shrugged, ‘What can I say? There are people whose company I abhor even _more_ than yours.’

Kieran chuckled, spinning her around, in time with the beat. Taking Kieran’s hand as he bowed next to her, she took a step forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. They began to sway. Finding familiarity in the rhythm, Lauren calmed. There had never been an occasion when Tristan had lied to her or avoided her questioning. She had always been relentless in her pursuit of answers, pinning whoever stood next to her with any inquiry that she could make. Tristan knew that and had always indulged her, but in light of the new knowledge, Lauren knew that something had been amiss. It had only been a few days since she had received the letter, however, the realization had made home in her mind, and it sent waves of hesitance crashing through her being.

The moment she got back to reality she noticed the fidgeting in Kieran’s gaze as he looked across the room. The movements in the dance provided a good vantage point. Kieran’s gaze, imperceptibly, seemed to land on Tristan, no matter where either of them would turn to. Catching his eyes, Lauren whispered, ‘The records. The dates in your letter are legitimate.’

All that their investigations for the bombs, without the cover of La Lune, had led to _dead ends_. The letter, though shady, had been the only _real_ piece of evidence that seemed to have been aiding them, and given that the letter was true to its word, they could _finally_ intercept the upcoming shipments. They might even be able to locate where the bombs were kept, and get rid of them, _for good_. The polite smile, already forced on Kieran’s face, turned into a true grimace. He whispered back as they swayed, ‘I was hoping against it.’

Narrowing her gaze in confusion and cautiousness, Lauren stared at him, each word piercing him as it was meant to, ‘It’s the most tangible evidence we’ve had so far.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s- ‘

Kieran took a deep breath. It wasn’t the case that he doubted the credibility of the letter. It was simply the fact that the destruction foretold by the letter was too grave. He smirked at her, hoping to brush off her concern, covering up the terror in his heart, ‘It is _slightly_ depressing that this is our reality.’

‘That I can agree with, and,’ Lauren stopped mid-sentence, as a pair passed right by them. She could hardly bring up what had been on her mind as it was, let alone with the threat of someone listening in. Bodies on the floor close to colliding as more people joined in on the festivities. Quite the crowd, and the last thing they needed was their hushed whispers to create an outrage. The last thing they should be doing, led into a corner right at center-stage, as the nobles that detested Lune as ferociously as the Scythe, pranced around them, with heavy hands and unburdened hearts.

Lowering his arm to Lauren’s back, Kieran stepped forward. In turn, Lauren pulled him in closer, sliding her hand over his neck. Two pairs of watchful eyes, watching each other’s backs, they swayed, side to side. Inches between their faces, Kieran turned to whisper in her ear, ‘And what?’

Lauren took a deep breath. She whispered back, ‘What did the Messenger say?’

‘I have two weeks.’

The _right_ question but to the _wrong_ man. Lauren watched her uncle flit across the room, greeting guests left and right. She _had_ to tell Kieran that he was right, and shockingly, the reason she was hesitating wasn’t that it was _him_ who was right. Sighing in relief, Lauren answered, ‘Thankfully, I have the names. Did you meet your _friend_?’

Kieran shook his head, the tresses escaped from his ribbon tickling Lauren’s cheek, ‘Not yet. O’Connor will be in Ardhalis next week.’

Kieran felt Lauren’s hold tighten where her hand lay on his neck, over his vest. She whispered, ‘My uncle is part of the Scythe.’ Kieran blanched in shock. The music played on, the people around them danced without a change, and looking at Lauren, Kieran knew that everything had changed for her. For both of them, he supposed. Dialing down the surprise on his face, Kieran tugged Lauren to continue to move, lest someone notice it to be strange. Subtly leading them both to the edge of the room, Kieran leaned back to look at Lauren, brow arched, confusion clear as day, as he waited for her to speak.

‘He’s an apostle.’

The surety in Lauren’s voice was dreadful, a complete opposite to the surety of their arrangement, nearly as sure as the sun was to set at dusk and rise at dawn. Understanding, Kieran answered, ‘So, that was the personal business in your letter.’

Her eyes dulled to a muted, grim hue of yellow, nearly as dark as the gown she had out on. It was a conclusion the easiest to arrive to. Gritting her teeth, Lauren warned him, ‘Do _not_ say a word. Safe to say, I was shocked when I received the letter, but I’m telling you now.’

‘That’s _not_ what I meant.’

Kieran guided her into a light sway, avoiding to amass onlookers. The edge of the room was better suited to conversation, less people that they didn’t have to worry about being overheard, and the music here was loud, so as to drown out the sounds of their sins in case someone did show up unannounced. Pitied gaze, he spoke, ‘It must be tough for you, finding that out.’ Turning around to the beat, he offered apology in the only way he could, ‘ **The letter could be wrong** , you know, and if it isn’t, then, I’m sure he must have his reasons.’

Lauren rested her head on his shoulder in acceptance. She was already suffocating in the lies around her, and it was time to start being honest with herself. Slowly, she began, ‘See, I _want_ to believe that. Regardless, it’s unnerving.’

Another breath, another turn. The weight of his hand on her back, the same as the weight of her head resting on his shoulder; comforting. Kieran didn’t say a word, eyes fixated behind Lauren and senses fixated on the agitation that flowed from her. She whispered, ‘If even the Chief of Police is associated with the Scythe, how far could our efforts ever lead us? What can the both of _us_ even do?’

It was a weight in her heart, and despite what truths she might uncover, all she could focus on was the one truth she knew, voicing it out loud, into existence, ‘Whenever he has spoken against the Scythe, those have never been lies.’

Kieran let out a deep breath, needing to reassure her, ‘People do things for a lot of reasons.’

‘He’s not a bad person.’

Is _anyone_? Of course, he isn’t. If Kieran could take a guess, he would assume Tristan played the middle man, _if_ he did, for Lauren’s sake, and he sure couldn’t tell her that. Not when she was so completely crestfallen. ‘And as true as that may be, why would he- ‘, he gulped his words back down. It wasn’t his place to say that. Looking at Lauren, he could tell how she knew all too well what he would have said. Having made it her mission to go after the leader, it couldn’t possibly ever get any easier for her to accept that her own uncle might be in the talons of the same man she had vowed to bring to ruins. Clutching her closer to him as they swayed, he whispered, ‘I really am sorry, Lauren. For everything. For this, for what I’ve done.’

Shifting her head to the crook of his neck, Lauren breathed out, ‘I don’t know what to believe anymore.’

Kieran nodded, feeling her deep breaths against his neck. He whispered into her hair, ‘You’re not the only one with personal vengeance against the Scythe. I will put in every effort on my part to make sure we live to see it demolished.’

Finding strength from his resolve, Lauren replied, ‘I promise you the same.’

Needing to have her look at him, to _truly_ hear and understand his words, tilting his head, he spoke, ‘It might end up being too much for you to bear. It won’t be easy going against any of them, Lauren.’

Lauren chuckled, despite herself, ‘I know I didn’t sign up for a walk in the park, _Kieran_. If the alternative means letting Ardhalis burn, I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Lauren looked up at him. He did say that he wanted the leader gone and he had meant it. He meant this promise as well, conviction solidifying in the set of his jaw and the hold of his hands, in the way he held _her_. After everything that had happened, _despite_ everything that had happened, Lauren knew what she had to do.

_‘Count the deal back on.’_

Kieran stopped dancing, in favor of staring at Lauren’s calm face in shock, wondering if he had heard her right. She couldn’t possibly be talking about _their_ deal.

At the pause, Lauren straightened up, hands loose around him. As if sensing his hesitation, Lauren added, ‘Because despite everything you’ve done, everything you are, you’re the only one making any real difference. The only one I _know_ wants to stop the Scythe.’

Lost from being able to speak, he stilled, all his faults running through his head. Finally, he spoke, and he did so with utter submission and conviction, ‘The terms are all yours.’

Lauren replied right back, ‘Honesty and trust. That’s it. The moment you know you can’t handle it, leave.’ She had been thinking about their deal for a while now, especially since their somewhat botched mission at the Camelia. It may have begun for selfish reasons, but it was their cooperation that had got them this far. The fire in her eyes back to an inkling of the day they had met, she warned him, laying her teeth bare, once again, ‘Or I promise you this, your blood will be on my hands and I will _not_ regret it.’

A threat to his life, and yet, the man in front of her smiled, more genuine than he had throughout the entire evening.

‘I wouldn’t expect any less, officer.’

Her attempt to mirror his smile drowned her exasperation into a bellowing laugh. She shook her head, trying to gain her composure. Fate was a cruel being, and she had yet to learn how to deal with it. How to come to terms with it. With him. She glared at the ground in an attempt to gain composure, as Kieran’s arms wrapped loosely around her. Had it not been as sad, it would’ve been funny. The irony. They stood, both of them fools, snorting at the irony of their being. An officer gone rogue, and a traitor to the Scythe, working together to save Ardhalis.

‘What jolly fortune that you ended up below this glorious mistletoe!’

Kym exclaimed, as her and William danced, teetering closer to the pair for a moment, in their slow circle across the room. Watching them stare at each other and the bow of mistletoe over their heads, Kym snickered. William rolled her eyes at her fondly, but as they turned, his face lost all its humor. Kym jabbed him in the neck, ‘What’s wrong?’

He bit back as they swayed to the beat, ‘My father is glaring at me. At _us_.’

Taking the lead, Kym turned them around to catch a look in the direction of Stefan Hawkes, instantly blanching back, turning them around abruptly again. Steps losing their surety for a second, she snarked, ‘Are you sure? He seems to be enjoying himself.’

William chuckled, closing his eyes as they regained their easy step. He admonished, singing his words to the beat of the music, ‘I know you can see it too.’

Kym agreed, ‘I can. Let’s get out of his line of sight.’ Beginning to drag him, she moved across the room, hands still placed as if in the middle of a dance, while her feet cut through the crowd, a nuisance if the glares in their direction were anything to believe.

Stepping over his own foot and nearly stumbling into a table nearby, eyes set on avoiding his father’s, Will asked her, ‘Into the hallway?’

An incredulous set to her face, Kym replied, ‘Outside the manor.’

In the dead of night? It would soon be midnight. A new year. A new beginning. William glanced through the window for some sign of the weather outside. Blinking back at the darkening sky, he grumbled, ‘It looks like it will snow soon, Kym.’ Despite his protests, he didn’t stop Kym from pulling him away. Not even once.

Hardly bothering to turn back to look at him as she practically ran through the crowd, clad in a blood red gown, Kym asked, ‘So?’

‘It’ll be fucking cold?’

Kym laughed, unable to keep calm at his swearing and nearly bumping into him as she lost a step when he had moved forward. William held her up, covering up a laugh of his own into a cough. Swaying lightly, face flushed from amusement, Kym asked him, ‘Colder than all the eyes glaring us down, Willame?’ If you _want_ to stay, then – ‘

Did he want to stay? He looked down at her in question as she jabbed at him. Then, his eyes landed on Stefan as they turned. Stefan was short of calling out to him, and he would have already done so, if not for _where_ he stood at the moment. He _did not_ want to stay here, and he did not want any part of this, _at all_. He smiled at her, guiding her to the door, ‘Let’s go.’

The rage and contempt on Stefan’s face as Will got dragged away was too surreal. His face contorted into a warning, the same way that he had been silently beckoning Will to come to him. Will shrugged in muted defiance as the charm of the ball and Stefan’s anger disappeared into the ornate frames of the Sinclair’s hallway.

Stefan took a deep breath. Even after he had met with nearly half the people, Will was still squandering away his time dancing. The least he could have done was at least dance with the _right_ woman. No! He couldn’t even do that, and then, he put up none to all resistance, _despite_ knowing he was being beckoned.

‘Had you been staring any more intently, the whole city might have heard you calling William, Stefan.’

Tristan’s familiar voice broke into his musings. Face contorted in a sneer, Stefan began to reply, too late in noticing the man beside him, ‘I will not be ridiculed.’ Toning down his words at the last syllable, he regarded the old man with caution, finally greeting him, ‘Good evening, sir.’

The man, holding Tristan’s arm, nodded, ‘A good evening to you as well, son.’

Providing introduction, Tristan spoke, ‘Stefan, this is Sir Richard Collis Doyle. Sir Doyle, Stefan Hawkes.’ Letting Stefan get acquainted with Sir Doyle, Tristan’s eyes darted around the room in favor of finding Lauren. None of this would be worth it if _they didn’t meet_. Answering one of Stefan’s queries, Tristan kept his wandering eyes to a subtle glance. Finally, he found the pair he had been looking for frozen in time on the far end of the room, quite near to the stairwell.

Looking up at the bough of mistletoe, Kieran grew anxious. Their lies and pretense were fake but they were subjected to pay an all too real price. It might have been better had he made up an excuse than to have attended the party. It would surely do to explain when they would eventually turn separate ways _after_ all this was over. Taking in a deep breath, he cursed how certain heads had turned in their direction after Ladell’s shouting. It was tradition but that didn’t mean they had to follow through. After all, what was keeping tradition to law-breakers like them. He meant to say the same to Lauren but she kissed him on the cheek.

‘We have a deal.’

Mouth open in the shape of words he was about to say, he stared at Lauren, who pointedly avoided his gaze. Tugging him by her arm in his, she spoke, ‘Now, we should get back to where my uncle is calling us from. I’m sure he’d rather not be conversing with Will’s father.’

Of course. They had a crowd to please and convince. He retorted, ‘You wouldn’t either. You looked nearly ready to fight him.’

Lauren glanced at him, curiosity getting the better of her, ‘How much did you hear?’

Smiling in Tristan’s direction, he whispered in her ear, ‘Beginning from your pensive eyes. He looks,’ he sighed, ‘menacing.’

Lauren smirked. That was one sentiment she could understand. She jabbed him in the side, ‘I know what you are thinking. Will takes up after his mother.’

Kieran chuckled, ‘For that I am glad.’

__________

‘Your father has a very unnerving glare!’

Disguising his chuckle in a cough, William pondered aloud, clearly entertained, ‘I thought you said he seemed to be enjoying the party.’

Kym stopped in her tracks, deadpanning, ‘You _know_ I lied. I don’t even have to ask to know you take after your mother.’ She began to walk even faster now, as if speed could aid her in escaping the wrath of the man still seething inside. Musing, she added, ‘Who I did not see inside, by the way.’

William took a deep breath.

‘She’s sick and bed ridden.’

Will’s hand in hers loosened a little, so Kym let go. She always did let go, when she thought that’s what he needed. Always so kind. Opening the doors, they were finally outside the manor. Breathing in the cold air in relief, Kym smiled as they walked further from the manor. When, from some distance, she could see the crowd inside, she turned to William, amazed, ‘Did you see how Lauren had half a mind to fight your father with her glare?’

Kym changed the grim subject from earlier much too easily, droning on about anything and everything, and bearing the weight of carrying the conversation. Will stared at her. What did he ever do to deserve her? The only reason she had switched from one topic to another was for his sake. He could see it more clearly now, as well as appreciate it. The graveyard at his tongue had been standing for a long time now, and yet, Kym Ladell brought all those words, all _his_ unsaid words back to life with her _charm_. He snorted at the idea, and Kym, taking it as a confirmation of his changing mood, a green signal, drove right ahead with the most ridiculous of her jokes, as they drifted closer to the garden.

Kym gave him a chance to draw back. She always did that, no matter what Will had done, understanding his need to get things right and not make mistakes. Even if she didn’t particularly agree with his actions or was aware of the motivations behind them, she _did_ always stay beside him, supporting him to her full ability. Will walked over to the bench in the garden. Sitting down and patting the space next to him, he spoke, ‘Let’s talk, Kym.’

Making a face of ‘what paperwork did I ruin this time’, Kym sat down next to him, watchful. Will would’ve laughed, if not for the weight of the topic he was about to address. Twisting to face her, he pulled one of his legs up onto the bench. Taking a deep breath, he began, ‘Alright. Don’t be mad, it wasn’t intentional but I found and read your brother’s file.’

He waited a moment to gauze her reaction, but nothing could have prepared him for the glazed over look that overtook her bright eyes, dimming them to the same level as that of the manor lights in the distance. Voice small, he added, unsurely, ‘I didn’t mean to – well, I _did_ mean to read the file that you had been going over _religiously_ for a week. I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal matters.’

The matter was finally out in the open, however, Will was hardly at ease. Kym hadn’t said a single word yet. She wasn’t even looking at him, instead staring straight ahead, at the rose bushes in front of her. Hands fidgeting, she whispered, ‘I see.’ Then, she looked at Will, smirk back in place, jabbing, ‘However, if you’re lying, I _will_ get Lauren and you _will_ be in trouble.’

The company a person keeps changes them, and so, some of Kym’s insightful nature had ultimately rubbed off on Will. He saw right through Kym’s act, and that is probably why he caught her arm,  
_‘You’re always a good friend to me and I,’_  
probably why he was being honest, why he _wanted_ to be honest with her,  
_‘I haven’t done the same for you.’_

Kym smiled, quite a lot more genuine than her pretend smirk. She teased, ‘You make up for it by being the _bother_ that you are.’

Will laughed. Holding her hands in his, he took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy being vulnerable and with Kym cracking jokes, he had the chance to avoid this conversation, but _this_ conversation was pertinent and long overdue. He had to address it, and they both needed to talk about this emotional _impasse_ that they would always end up at. He apologized.

‘I’m sorry for pushing you away, always. When it comes to Lauren, either of us can talk about her comfortably, but I can’t remember the last time _we_ were honest with each other.’

Kym scoffed, ears turning red, ‘Well, to be fair I _do_ always make a mess for you.’

Relentless, William carried on, ‘And _although_ I scold you all the time, I couldn’t ask for a more diligent Sergeant.’

Kym beamed back, teasing, ‘Are you sure? You despised me the _entirety_ of, how long you’ve known me?’

Will shrugged, ‘Two years, and well, I still do sometimes.’

Kym hit him in the arm. Laughing, he rolled his eyes, ‘I also _know_ and _appreciate_ how much you care.’ 

Kym drawled, ‘Fine.’ Holding up her hand in the mockery of a blessing, she spoke, ‘You are forgiven, my good sir, for being a prying twat.’

Letting go of her hand, Will laughed, ‘Since, _I_ am the twat, let me begin.’ Expression now greatly sobered; he took a deep breathe. Before his brain could convince himself to back out, he shut his eyes, letting it all out in the open.

‘My mother’s condition is only worsening and I’m scared that I would lose her. My father, it seems, could not bring himself to care. All he cares to prod me about is becoming a prodigy, catching Lune, settling down and carrying on the Hawkes’ legacy. I- I don’t want that.’

Head rested on her palms, Kym nodded, hearing William out. She had some idea, but she didn’t know exactly how bad it was. She smiled at him, reassuring, ‘You are _already_ a prodigy, Will. What do you want, then?’

When was the last time someone had asked him that? Relaxing back into the bench, he gave it some thought. Unsure, not knowing what his words were supposed to mean or what he was supposed to say, he spoke, ‘To do the right thing? Even if it seems childish, I want to do right by my responsibilities. I don’t want to lose my mother or deal with the truth of her condition simply because it’s inevitable.’ He frowned then, the way he couldn’t possibly in front of his father, ‘And I surely don’t want to be tied down with a stranger before I reach twenty-five.’

Kym jested, poking him in the side, ‘Oh, so you’d be fine being tied down before twenty-five if it wasn’t a stranger?’

Something about that caught Will off guard, almost as if she was asking him to be honest with Stefan. He _wanted_ to be honest with Stefan, and he would surely do that, but when the right time comes. Letting her know that he was putting himself first, he retorted, ‘Kym, I want to live for myself first. Make my own choices, and build on my own experiences before any of that. I want to do my job, and spend more time with you. Lauren. All of you.’

Kym smiled at him softly, and now, it was Will’s turn to stare at the bushes. He leaned on the bench, sitting straighter. Kym breathed out, pouting, ‘That is quite a predicament you’re in.’ Clapping her hands, she grimaced, ‘I believe it’s my turn now? _Alright_. Dani, my older brother, was shot to death the day after Allendale.’ Running her hand over the side of her dress, she spoke, ‘The watch belonged to him. He never left the house without it.’

Will judged from the action, accurately, that Kym must still have the watch in her pocket. Kym sighed, voice seeming practiced from years of being taught over and over again how to feel, ‘Moving on from his death was tough, but ultimately I’m fine. I ended up following _his_ footsteps, even though my parents would rather I hadn’t. They still let me make my own choices, my own mistakes.’

Will stared at the open expression on her face, as she looked up at the sky, clearly reminiscing, ‘I always think back to that day, to the things I could have done differently, to what might have happened if he never left for work that day, and it _pains_ me. Dani always said and _proved_ that a hero is someone who steps up when the need arises, and that has always stuck with me.’

Though William had already read the entire file, he asked, hoping that there was more to the story, that there was closure here, ‘They never found what happened?’

Kym shook her head, ‘They didn’t. There were no witnesses. I _tried_ to find the culprit and _failed_.’ She held up a finger, ‘don’t ask me how.’ She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze, ‘After Harvey, I kept going over the file to remind myself: a hero is someone who steps up when the need arises. I always ask myself, _what would Dani do_? And then, I go and do just _that_.’ She smiled at the ground.

Another lull of silence stretched between them. Unlike the ones before, it was calm and peaceful. Will looked at Kym, finally noticing how she seemed to be shaking a little. Whether it was more from her memories or the cold, he did not know for sure. What he did know was that the blush on her ears and face was definitely from the biting cold. He clicked his tongue, taking off his jacket. He put the jacket around her. She stared at him, eyes shining, and face blank. 

Tucking her in closer, and tugging the jacket tighter around her, he rebuked, ‘Only _you_ would run headfirst, out into the biting cold, without any regard for your health.’

Rubbing her eyes, and registering his remark, she retorted, ‘You followed me right after!’

This was the one time he could give in to fight with her and would gladly do it. Will sneered, trying and failing to keep his amusement at bay, pointing out the obvious, ‘And I had a coat on!’

The man had quite a talent for pointing out the obvious in all situations. Rolling her eyes, Kym glared at him, ‘You! You’re the seeds in a watermelon! Useless and unproductive!’

Kym had been shaking. In anger, in amusement, in cold or in despair? Maybe all, maybe none at all, maybe due to an entirely different reason. Will didn’t know, nor did he care particularly at the moment. All he knew was that he wouldn’t forgive himself if Kym didn’t laugh like herself before, if the light in her eyes didn’t return. Will pouted dramatically, making Kym snicker. He retorted, ‘The bane of my existence. I take back my words. I still despise you.’

He may have said so, but he had said it with a smile, and if Lauren could have _heard_ him, heard them _both_ , she would have heard the blatant lies.

Alas! Lauren only watched them from the steps by the side of the mansion. Stepping back with a smile on her face, she hummed to herself on her way back to the entrance, knowing that despite how the world would turn out to be, at least both her friends were on the right track to work things out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Soft!Kywi???  
>  Soft!Lauki???_
> 
> **Kym:** You don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?  
>  **Will:** Yes.
> 
> Parallels between Will’s crocodile helicopter dad, and Kym’s chill parents???
> 
> LUNE IS BACK ON???? OFFICIALLY????
> 
> Don’t ever say I don’t do things for ya lol
> 
> If you think more than half this chapter is out of character, yes please, it is. *nervously looks at the AN for the first chapter* IM RUNNING WILD AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME HAHAHAHA It’s about time our murder babies had a soft epilogue…though the actual epilogue is still too damn far hahaha and wow this chapter is nearly 5K huh? I really snapped lol
> 
> I always write these ANs when I make the final edit for the chapter, but let me tell you, 74? Wig? Snatched. Panic? On. And the next is Tumbling Truth. Huh. I may not recover enough to post the next chapter sorry guys XD OR I might just rage post the entire new year arc even _before_ Sunday
> 
> Nobody knows. I surely don’t :)
> 
> Song: [Truce](https://open.spotify.com/track/6BEKt5axiNeWCr9huv0k7I?si=DZf6zwodRzux8N-C3vwGpw) by [Twenty-One Pilots](https://open.spotify.com/artist/3YQKmKGau1PzlVlkL1iodx?si=gQumoHxsTbisYWP-ddLWAw)
> 
> Love, [Peace](https://www.instagram.com/hugsforkiki/).


	18. I’ve seen it all from the start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had heard rumors. He had heard the rumor of the Black Raven coming back home but it couldn’t possibly be so.  
>  If it was, there remained only one question.  
>  Why now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Secrets and Lies](https://open.spotify.com/track/24tKi7ruqUPHsEA6TQQq6X?si=oSfcSYgnRKGmF1nX0s-gYg) by [Ruelle](https://open.spotify.com/artist/5tIkXJTex4JY7cv9mmgAZx?si=0Cd8lOoDTtKThYS5KPnqNQ)
> 
> Wtf is wrong with me, I almost forgot posting lol

_He had heard rumors. He had heard the rumor of the Black Raven coming back home but it couldn’t possibly be so._   
_If it was, there remained only one question._   
_Why now?_

Walking over to the corner, where both her uncles had uncomfortable scowls on their faces, Lauren broke the silence, pointedly eyeing Stefan, ‘Not tormenting my poor Uncle’s nerves, are we?’

Lauren broke into the conversation between the men, which was starting to seem more and more a tête-à-tête she wouldn’t want to _ever_ involve herself in. But she must. For the sake of her poor uncle, she _must_. Stefan glared at her, remaining silent as Tristan smirked at her retort. Silently beckoned to come forward before she could question the solemn vibe, Lauren took a step, letting go of Kieran’s arm to hold Tristan’s hand.

Leading her right in front of the stranger, Tristan spoke up, ‘And here is my niece, Sir Doyle.’

A soft smile on his kind face, the man leaned on his staff. White hair brushed back and fingers shaky, testament to his age, as he held out his hand to her. Pride and humility formed an unlikely contrast in his form. For all the grandeur he displayed, all Lauren could feel was familiarity and friendliness flowing from him. Offering her hand, Lauren bowed a little, greeting him, ‘Good evening, sir.’

Sir Doyle’s smile only grew, as if in reminiscence from hearing her voice. He smiled at her kindly, ‘Ah, dear little Ren. It’s been a while.’

 _Little Ren_? Not many people knew the endearment, especially since the people who did hardly ever referred to her as Ren in public. Had she met him? Tristan surely hadn’t mentioned the name Doyle before, and if he had, she would have remembered a _knight_ of the kingdom. Attention focused on the visitor in front of her, she failed to pay attention to everything around her. Hand on her shoulder, Tristan cut through whatever probable conversation that Lauren could have come up with, ‘I insist, Sir Doyle.’ He turned to her, ‘Lauren, would you kindly fetch Barnes?’ 

‘Tristan,’ Sir Doyle spoke up, tone admonishing, as if dealing with an unreasonable child, ‘I _wish_ to walk and walk, I _must_. It has been a long time since I last faced the chill of Ardhalis.’

Chasing the prospect of the moment, Stefan spoke up, disbelief written in the lines of his face and triteness in the tone of his voice, ‘This time of night, it wouldn’t be wise to walk, sir.’

Had he not been wearing those dark glasses; Lauren could’ve sworn she saw the man roll his eyes. Nevertheless, she heard the annoyance in his words clear as day, ‘For someone like _me_ , you wish to say?’

Whatever retort that Stefan had, he let die on his tongue as Sir Doyle continued, ‘You may have met me for the first time today, however, I have been living as per my wishes and whims long enough, Stefan. Blind man or not.’

Holding in a chuckle, Lauren’s eyes flitted between the men, between the flabbergasted expression on Stefan’s face, the exasperation on her uncle’s and the pure delight on Sir Doyle’s. Anyone capable of shutting up Stefan Hawkes in between his bouts had to be a _legend_ , as Sir Doyle clearly was. Her eyes finally rested on Kieran as Stefan made an attempt to take back his words, lest Sir Doyle take offence.

Kieran was lost, eyes fixed on the scene in front of him. Lauren nudged him in the side, brows knitting up in question, instantly regretting the very moment his gaze met hers. When he turned to look at her, he seemed _different_. Shaken, almost. Drawing up his typical nonchalant grin once more, he shook his head at her furrowed brow. He stepped forward, as if unaffected, but Lauren knew better than to let it be.

Filing away this moment in the crevices of her mind, she stilled, realizing that Kieran had stepped forward, and in her mind, she drew a hand across her face, realizing that he was about to involve himself in the conversation. Moving to nudge Kieran on the shoulder to stop, she froze as Kieran spoke directly to Sir Doyle, ‘Good evening, sir. If I may be so bold so as to accompany you on your promenade.’

Short breaths stealing away warnings from her tongue, Lauren’s hand fell limp in the distance between her and Kieran. This wasn’t part of _their_ plan. This wasn’t even _a_ plan. Teasing lilt to his voice, Tristan quipped next to Kieran, a whisper muted to the rest of the bunch, ‘Recompensating for your midnight tryst, Mr. White? Is that it?’

Slight flush on his face, Kieran rubbed a hand on his neck, what Lauren _knew_ to be satiric, that could easily be taken up as a genuine case of the nerves. Kieran chuckled, ‘No, sir. It simply seems impertinent to dismiss his wishes, even if it is for the sake of his welfare.’

This he said loud enough to be heard, while not so subtly glancing at Stefan Hawkes. Lauren stared at Kieran in horror, dampening the startling curl of her lips to a poised smile. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Makes sense for an assassin to not be afraid, neither of the most _callous_ person in the world nor of the seemingly most candid.

Even more astonishing was that Sir Doyle let the interruption go unacknowledged. He eased up, ‘Would you, young man? Then, it’s settled.’

Tristan had outstretched his hand meant to stop Sir Doyle, which he held gently, patting it in farewell, ‘My lodging is at the Willow. I will be _fine_ , Tristan.’

Tristan chuckled. It was a losing battle, and surely the only one he would never truly mind losing, the only friendly foe that he would look forward to spar with on multiple occasions. Tristan looked over at Kieran, noting the way his eyes shone. Unlike any of the times that he had the chance to see them before. Unlike how they had been covered up in vain with an uneasy somberness in the photograph Tristan had managed to get a hold of.

_None of this would be worth it if_ they didn’t meet _._

None of it would have been worth it if _they_ hadn’t met, and here they stood side by side. It wasn’t his word to keep, and yet Tristan couldn’t help but welcome the surge of satisfaction at the scene that unfolded in front of him. Peace may only be born of sacrifice, and if _his_ sacrifice was what it took to keep them all safe, he wouldn’t dare hesitate. Nodding in understanding, Tristan spoke up, looking down at the floor, nostalgia of the past burning in his heart, ‘I never thought I’d see it occupied in my time.’

A sadness borne of loss reflected in his eyes as well, Sir Doyle smiled, a blue little thing unfurling at the edges, dripping down as the candles burned on the table beside them. ‘I keep my promises,’ he whispered to Tristan. Voice turning back to the cheery thing from before, he added, loudly this time, ‘I take your leave, my good sir.’

Tristan smiled back at him, ‘Of course.’

Waving his hand in the direction of Kieran’s voice, Sir Doyle spoke up, as he walked forward, ‘Shall we, young man?’

Offering his arm to the old man, Kieran matched his pace as they walked away.

‘And who would you be, boy?

‘Kieran. That’s my name.’

As they walked away, Lauren could hear the conversation fade, the clarity of their words turning to muted whispers in the distance. 

The sounds of the room once again took their place upon her senses, drawing her in, into the life of the party. Lauren stared at the dubious pair walk away, mind running over the conversation that she had shared with Kieran earlier. Not a _single_ lie from him, except about the letter. In all honesty, she was sure that Kieran wasn’t aware that he had lied either. He had been so adamant at reinforcing the belief that her suspicions might be wrong, if only so she could stay calm, even when he, himself didn’t believe it.

Snatching her from her reverie, Tristan teased, even when the words seemed to be anything but an honest remark on his part, ‘A good man, that one.’

Suppressing a snort, Lauren considered his words.

‘He has a _certain_ charm, I suppose.’

Stefan spoke next, ‘I am inclined to agree.’ At the evident shock on the faces of both the Sinclairs, he added, ‘You might learn a few things from the company you keep, Lauren.’

This evening was full of surprises indeed. Stefan Hawkes commending someone, and that someone being none other than Kieran White. An assassin? She mumbled under her breath, ‘Like cutting people open like a ribbon?’

As both the men stared at her at the inaudible remark, Lauren froze. Stefan drew a brow at her, as did Tristan, and so she changed the topic. Turning all her attention to Tristan, she cleared her throat, ‘You seem to be well acquainted with Sir Doyle. Why haven’t I heard about him before, uncle?’

Tristan drew up his face to answer, taking a moment of consideration, as if to figure out the right words. Eyes flitting across the room, he exclaimed, turning to the foyer instead, ‘Here he is. Dakan, finally!’

Though taken aback, Lauren turned to face the foyer as well, watching Dakan walk towards them. Tristan didn’t just-

 _No_. He _definitely_ did. Tristan had hesitated _for sure_. Even as they greeted Dakan, she couldn’t take her mind off of it, couldn’t bring herself to brush the thought away, in lieu of the recent discoveries.

Tristan exclaimed as he moved ahead to embrace Dakan, ‘It is so good to see you!’

Dakan nodded in agreement. Facing the Sinclairs, he addressed Stefan, standing at the side, ‘Here that I am, I must first discuss some important matters with you.’ Gaze shifting, he met Stefan’s eyes from the distance, ‘It’s been too long, old friend.’

A knot on his forehead, Stefan bowed in greeting, ‘That it has. **Good to see you** , Sir Rhysmel.’

Lauren looked between the two of them. Stefan never wanted to talk to Dakan, despite what businesses they may have shared at one point in history, or _camaraderie_ , for that matter. Crestfallen at losing a chance, yet again, to talk to Dakan, she unleashed the full force of her pleading eyes at him.

Dakan bit back a chuckle, letting loose a light promise into the zealous air, ‘I’m sure you’ve missed me, as I have you. I _will_ be back.’ Lauren nodded at him, willfully ignoring Stefan’s glare. Gesturing to the staircase, Dakan spoke, ‘Shall we, Hawkes?’

An unenthusiastic nod, and Stefan followed right after Dakan. Lauren’s mind, now came back to what had slipped from her grasp.

_The lack of an answer._

The dismissal from her uncle didn’t sit right with her. Spinning to face him, leaving no chance for disregard, she asked, ‘Uncle, who is Sir Doyle?’

Weighing his words, Tristan guided Lauren to walk with him, in lieu of an answer. She took his arm as they walked across the room. A thin thread-bare anticipation in the air, Lauren refrained from putting up another query, out of fear of breaking the fragile thing that had become of their conversation and partly out of fear of her doubts remaining unclear.

Reminiscing, a slight upturn to the curves of his mouth, Tristan spoke, ‘You were still so small when he was around.’

Lauren looked at him with more curiosity in her eyes than she had begun with. Her memory surely didn’t serve her well. She hardly remembered ever having met the man.

A lightning strike and Tristan’s soft smile turned into a grimace. Enraptured in the show of emotions that flitted across her uncle’s face, Lauren walked, tight-lipped. Tristan continued to speak, ‘He left the country soon after Allendale. It took quite a toll on him.’

Voice coming to an abrupt stop, Tristan took a deep breath. The heavy set to his jaw more than enough of a sign of the pained memory that he must surely be reliving. Lauren, on the other hand, her will against her own mind, was trying the absolute best to refrain from asking _all_ that was on her mind, and all that was on her mind were solely more doubts and discrepancies. Questions and questions. Only _endless_ questions. 

Lauren hesitated, a red glare burning through her senses, brighter than the shade of the soft curls cascading down her back, ‘I- I never heard of him before. Not from _you_ , or anyone else, for that matter, and he was bestowed _knighthood_?’

Tristan stopped walking, patting Lauren’s hand, he spoke, ‘He is a knight, yes. Although that isn’t exactly common knowledge.’ Moving Lauren’s hands from his arm and holding them, Tristan spoke, ‘I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Ren, as always. However, there are guests to attend to.’

A futile evening of soft dismissals and unanswered questions.

Lauren tried to smile at him, though she was well aware of how peculiar it must have come across as, ‘Of course, uncle.’

Dropping her hands, he stepped back into the crowd on the floor. As another faceless member of the Ardhalis nobility made his way over to him, Tristan called to her over his shoulder, ‘You should go and enjoy yourself with your friends before Dakan comes back.’

Lauren nodded to him, staying rooted to her spot, even as she watched her uncle talk and mingle with his associates. There wasn’t much that one couldn’t chalk up to coincidence, and yet, she knew that despite what she would like to believe, the truth was her uncle might not be as blameless as she had always believed him to be. 

__________

Leading Stefan to the balcony of Tristan’s study, Dakan stood near the end. It had taken quite a lot of effort on his part, mind you, but it was a shot he _had_ to take. It was an important conversation, brimming with words that _needed_ to be said out loud into the strangeness that had taken up the form of a rift between them, stretching them thin in different directions. Although Tristan had been adamant in believing that Stefan would not budge, _he_ had to make an effort.

Dakan looked at Stefan from where he stood against the balcony. Poised over his staff, he nearly melted into the door, as if one unwelcome word from him and he would bolt. While Dakan took his time in finding the right words, Stefan broke the silence that had graced them, with a terse greeting, ‘Rhysmel.’

Nearly rolling his eyes, Dakan glared back, ‘Hawkes.’

Keeping up with the façade of niceties, Stefan asked, ‘How have you been?’

Biting back a comment on Stefan’s _considerate_ nature and _affectionate_ disposition, Dakan went straight to the point. Taking a deep breath, he spoke up, ‘I won’t mince my words any longer. We _need_ your assistance.’

‘No.’

The word, a stern utterance, snapped the tension back into the atmosphere. Before Dakan could comprehend or even explain what had _truly_ been going on right under their noses, Stefan turned to the door.

Pleading, Dakan made an attempt to reach him, laying a hand on his shoulder, ‘You don’t even know what _for_ yet!’

Shrugging his hand off of him, Stefan gritted, the mislaid menacing of his gaze filled in by the bite in his words, ‘I can only _assume_ that King Philip’s right man would require my assistance in case of something, say, _too massive_.’ He turned to face Dakan, turning the full force of his menacing glare on him. Taking the shock on Dakan’s face as a beckoning, he bit back, ‘Perhaps the _plague_ that has taken over our city for the past ten years? Am I _wrong_?’

Hand limp in the in-between, in the hollow that lay between them, separated by drive and duty, Dakan gritted his teeth. Stefan was _right_ , and he was right to admonish and grieve for his losses, but he must surely see that given the chance to provide alleviation for that suffering for others, he _should_ take that chance. This was one evil against which they all needed to unite as a single front, against which they needed all the help that they could get.

An attempt to calm himself as well as placate Stefan, Dakan began to speak, much softer now, ‘I _know_ it is not something you would want to talk about.’

Stefan cut him off, voice terse and posture tense, ‘Then, why would you even ask?’ Pointing at him, he scowled, ’You know _everything_ , Dakan.’ He stepped dangerously close to Dakan then, eyes harrowing and burning deep, while his words left vacancies along the ice they seemed to spew.

‘I will not endanger _anyone_ for pointless tactics.’

A mirror to his own vices, Dakan stepped forward as well, but for all his frustration, he hardly looked the part. Pity and affability, _empathy_ , flowed from him as he stepped right in front of Stefan. Desperately hoping to make him understand, he spoke, nearly pleading, ‘Except that this time, they will not be worthless.’

Shaking his head, Stefan stepped back, closer to the door, ‘Tell that to Harvey Wood. Had it been William-‘

Losing his breath and his words, he paused, taking in a deep breath. He gritted, regaining some composure, ‘What could I _possibly_ have done, had it been my beloved son?’

Dakan scoffed, ‘I may have been busy, but even I am aware that beloved is the last thing your own son would expect to hear from you. Especially since Jo fell ill.’

A sad smile making its way on his face, Stefan shut his eyes. He knew well enough as to what exactly was on William’s mind. He required no reminders of Will’s affections towards him, or lack thereof. Turning to face Dakan with the frown that had made a home on his face by now, he cleared it up, ‘I’d rather he didn’t. He may _abhor_ me for my decisions but I will make sure he stays unharmed from Scythe business. I will make sure that he stays _alive_.’

 _Alive_? Anyone with anything to do with the Scythe couldn’t stay safe, neither _unharmed_ nor _alive_ , and _Lune_? Lune was very clearly Scythe business, even if the duo were working against the Scythe. Astonished, he mocked, ‘Is that why you are pressing him to find Lune?’

A firm hold on his staff, Stefan glanced at the view of the city from the balcony as he spoke, ‘It will earn him favor with the King. He _will_ lead a good life.’

_No one can lead a good life as long as the Scythe runs around throughout Ardhalis, a specter of destruction, reaping away lives in the ominous dark and laying stake over the ones desperate enough to sell their souls._

Dakan seethed, ‘Do you believe it to be a possibility as long as _they_ exist?’

Indifferent, Stefan spoke, ‘As long as he stays off of their radar and holds a high rank in the police. I must admit I can’t say the same for Lauren.’

Dakan walked over to where Stefan stood, eyes glazed over in one of the most painful memories continually burning up the castle of his mind, ‘She _lost_ Rachel and Alex, Stefan.’

Stefan protested his words, ‘We _all_ lost them, Dakan. Doesn’t give one the justification to destroy their life.’ 

Destroying her life and career was exactly the path that Lauren was headed on. Losing people was painful, especially for a child. To have their world turned upside down in a snap of fingers. Starting her days with the ferocious liveliness, as she always had for twelve years of her life, and in a span of days she had lost three of the people whom she cherished the most.

Stefan never believed that it would’ve been easy for her. It wasn’t _supposed_ to be easy. Her frustrations may have been justified and pitied but her actions never could be. Her actions hadn’t all been _just_ , and they surely weren’t _safe_ either. There was a reason why he continually prodded William to keep away from Lauren.

Stefan _deserved_ to know.

Even Lauren had figured out parts of the truth, and so Stefan, as one of Alexander’s closest friends deserved to know the truth as well. He had been beside them for nearly all their lives, even being a part of their lives since they were kids. Deciding, what one may call against his better judgement, Dakan shut his eyes, as the truth left with the breath he had been holding, ‘She lost them- _we_ lost them to the Scythe.’

The admission now out in the open, and it lay untouched, unaddressed.

It hardly garnered the attention or reaction that Dakan had expected it to. Opening his eyes, he looked at Stefan, hoping to see it for himself, the flitting emotions that must _surely_ have imbedded themselves into his frown. As Dakan stared right ahead, avoiding his gaze, Stefan stared back at the city. Dakan reeled back, stumbling a little as he took a step back.

The ominous flutter in his chest, and the blood coursing in sinful spurts was not what he had expected to feel firsthand. He had assumed to have that reaction from Stefan, not _himself_. Not quite ready to voice out the truth, and yet, _knowing_ that it had to be laid out into the open, he let out a small whisper.

‘But you already knew that.’

A slight shift in Stefan’s jaw, and Dakan knew that his words hadn’t been wrong. With a man like Stefan Hawkes, the tables were always turned.

 _How_? How _long_? Had he known it all _right_ from the _start_? How long had he been _hiding_ -

‘Little Ren needs to know that she can only avenge her loved ones _if_ she is alive to do so.’

Stefan spoke, still avoiding his eyes, overlooking the city. He paused to let that fact sink into Dakan’s mind, who was now rendered speechless. No longer avoiding his gaze, Stefan added, ‘Since we are _old friends_ , I will be honest with you.’

Walking up to him, Stefan spoke, ‘Her immediate _demotion_ and her _banishment_ from Scythe cases in the precinct is my doing. Hermann owes me a favor.’

A humorless chuckle made it out of Dakan. Firstly, knowledge about what had truly happened to the Sinclairs, and now, an admission to being the one responsible for the limbo that Lauren had been shoved into? It wasn’t exactly a _secret_ that despite working to get her rank back as Detective, Lauren was being unfairly looked over. Multiple times, she had denied Tristan’s offer to talk to Hermann, when in fact, it might not have made a difference at all. That was _quite_ a wise choice on Stefan’s part.

Dakan muttered, ‘Hermann also, _very conveniently_ , detests Tristan for becoming Chief.’

Stefan retorted, walking away from the balcony door, ‘I’m saving her _life_. They need to stay _alive_ first, Dakan. It does no good to be martyrs. I will _not_ let them become martyrs. _Any_ of them.’

Exhausted, Dakan stared at Stefan’s retreating back, forlornly, ‘Their fate isn’t in _your_ hands.’

It wasn’t in his hands either. His _own_ future wasn’t in his hands. Even before diving head first in the corruption overrunning the royalties, he already knew it was a fight he was meant to lose, and yet he couldn’t help but hope. Something _had_ to change. Something _must_ change. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before the very same air of privilege they breathe in now would burn them from the inside out. 

Stefan stopped in his tracks at that. He spoke, ‘It’s not in _yours_ either.’

Moving out of Tristan’s study, he let loose one last retort to shatter whatever dubious thoughts ran amok inside Dakan’s mind. Taking away any and all hope of reconciliation, he jabbed, ‘Insurrection only ever leads to misery. If you don’t believe that, maybe Alex could convince you when you join him, sooner or later.’

Sparing Dakan one last glance, he added, ‘Although, it might be sooner from the looks of it.’

With the last word in the argument, Stefan left, having already decided to leave without William. The boy needed to be away from home, and he knew it. He could hardly rest easy, but as long as William would remain safe and sound, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t put up with. He could care less for William detesting him, or not even wishing to see his face, but as long as he was _alive_ , nothing else could matter, now, could it?

__________

‘Mr. Kieran. What do you do?’, Sir Doyle asked, trudging the length of the walkway outside Sinclair Manor, holding onto Kieran’s arm.

The weather was abysmal, though thankfully, it hadn’t yet started to snow. Now, _that_ would be a problem. Kieran replied, ‘I am an archivist in the APD for the 11th precinct.’

The old man nodded, ‘With the law of the land, then. Very well, my good sir.’

Kieran winced at the words. He was, very much _not_ with the law of the land. He wasn’t _not_ with the law of the land either. Running through his thoughts, Kieran realized that his position was quite an anomaly, both for the APD as well as the Scythe. Halfway to the Willow now, Kieran breathed in the biting cold air, letting it flow through his lungs, calming his thoughts and centering him back to the present.

A tug on his arm knocked him out of his trance, and he realized that the old man had stopped moving. Even as Kieran looked on in confusion, Sir Doyle let go of his arm. Kieran looked around. They were near Nightingale Park now. Seemingly lost in thought, Sir Doyle laid a hand on the wall of the park, running it over the cracks that had accumulated over the years.

Deeply lost in the world come alive inside his mind, the man mumbled a tale that Kieran could hardly hear. There was only one statement that made it to Kieran’s ears, as the man remarked, taking in a deep breath, ‘The scent of the freesias.’

A mischievous glint to his eyes, Kieran snickered, ‘It surely is _enticing_. Would you like me to describe them to you?’

Kieran’s words brought the old man back to the present. Sharp words but the humor curving freely underneath them, Sir Doyle rebuked, ‘Don’t get _coy_ with me, boy. I am well aware that the cold of Ardhalis does not permit them to grow.’

Kieran nearly stepped back on instinct, as Sir Doyle reminisced, ‘Once upon a time, though, the story was different.’

Softly, Kieran spoke, sincerely meaning every word, ‘It must be nice to have such striking vivid memories.’

He, for sure, couldn’t remember much from his life before the Scythe. Oh, the memories that did plague his mind were _quite striking_ but not in the way you would hope for them to be. He did not have the luxury of an abundance of good memories to draw from, and the ones that were, were tainted. He hardly remembered his own home, much less simple yet invigorating details such as the smell of a garden, the garden he would sit and draw in.

Sir Doyle spoke, an uncharacteristically gloomy lilt to his words, ‘I forget nothing.’ Drawing back the sanguinity upon his features, he added, ‘When these eyes still held the world, I would paint it down on my canvass. Now, I am left with my memories and my lonesome. Do you partake in any arts, Mr. Kieran?’

Honesty making its way, Kieran answered truthfully, ‘I sketch. Occasionally.’

The man remarked, ‘Brilliant! Art keeps the soul alive. When I used to paint the flowers in the garden, it helped me appreciate nature. Always fed my love of it.’

They walked ahead, as Sir Doyle kept on speaking, hardly even letting a single moment to be taken up by grim and gloomy whispers of the wind, now gaining speed as the night sky turned grey. In a tangle of unlikely stories and lighthearted rebukes, they reached their destination.

Kieran stopped, lightly tapping on the man’s hand, ‘We’re at the Willow now.’

Letting go of his arm, Sir Doyle walked ahead, ‘Thank you for helping this old man.’

Meaning to step back but a clenching of his heart making him stay rooted to the spot, Kieran fidgeted, ‘It was my pleasure.’

He couldn’t help but look on in concern, watching the man stumble over the threshold. A hand outstretched on instinct within a second, despite the distance that separated them, he asked, ‘Will you be alright?’

Sir Doyle turned around, a soft smile on his face. He spoke, ‘I would fare better were you to join me for a cup of tea’, cutting off his own thoughts, he waved at where he supposed Kieran would be, ‘but I’m sure you must be keen to get back to your lady. Some other time, then?’

Kieran nodded. Clearing his throat, he spoke up, ‘Surely. Good night, Sir Doyle.’

Maybe he wouldn’t have left even if he had to. Truly, the gods knew that if he could stay, he _would_. Kieran turned around as the man bid him goodbye, and in that, he missed the pensive look that graced his features as he softly added onto the dark of the night. Another whisper, another admission. Secrets and lies that had been buried deep inside his heart, finally turning into the truth.

Masked by the scruff of Kieran’s shoes against the pavement as he turned, the old man whispered, ‘Good night, Master White.’

Kieran froze.

Spinning around only to gawk at the old man, Kieran stilled, while his mind ran a mile a minute, and none of the words he knew made it out of him. When he had offered to walk Sir Doyle, it had been because he couldn’t help but _chase_. All he could bring himself to do was chase after the remnants of a home he could hardly recall anymore, the warmth of which lingered in some corner of his heart, coming back up as a reminder the moment his eyes landed on the elderly figure of the one man that had been the kindest to him.

As if sensing his trouble, Sir Doyle let out a chuckle. He spoke, the same loving admonishment back in his voice, ‘My dear Kiki, I’m afraid I’d recognize your soul _despite_ any time or distance, or the effort you put into concealing it.’

A simple thread that had seemingly found him when he most needed it and he grasped it with all his strength. If he had recognized him back when they stood next to Tristan, he hadn’t said a word, and somehow Kieran _knew_ that no matter what would come next, this one man might stand by his side. There was so much to be _said_ and _done_. _So much_.

Questions, admonishing and pain pouring out from his heart, he made to speak only to still once more at the man in front of him. Sir Doyle stood at the threshold of the Willow, both hands leaning on his cane, head held high, and the incredulous overwhelming happiness on his face only told Kieran that it wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t the time for him. Not yet.

Turning to the yard, Sir Doyle whispered, ‘Go.’

Voice brimming with unshed tears, he said the only thing he could at the moment.

‘Good night, _Deo_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, the [Tower really Tumbled](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/s2-ep-75-tumbling-tower/viewer?title_no=1621&episode_no=78) like Jack and Jill. Oh well.
> 
> Enough with flower symbolism. *throws bird symbolism at you* We stan a man that can insult Stefan Hawkes without a thought and actually silence and **no, of course not, that is not the reason why I made up the character of one badass Sir Dick D, and I definitely did not name him Richard Collis Doyle to shorten it to _that_. _Absolutely not_.** Though I gotta say, Sir D sounds more badass?  
>  (Yeah, okay. I am a five-year-old snickering while writing this. *shrugs*)
> 
> Another point, I have no idea what I’ve written but I simply wanted to add a bit of backstory with Sir D being blind. My apologies and open comment section to anyone who has any advice over the way I’ve handled and will be handling Sir D’s character.
> 
> Oh, and I did not know how to describe ‘mental facepalm’ and I’m pretty sure none of you actually got it XD
> 
> Me, with this chapter: Just LEMME BE DRAMATIC ALRIGHT
> 
> No, but, seriously, if this feels like a pan full of milk bristling at the edges and making those pop sounds and about to drown out the stove, then, yes, it is. Oh, and in case you really don’t get whatever hell just happened, PLEASE let me soak in my dramatism for a week. The next chapter was supposed to be a part of this, but I wanted to make it PAINFUL so I made a few last-minute changes hahahahaha
> 
> Oh, and included the song in the top notes because that makes more sense and idk why I didn’t do it before *shrugs*
> 
> Hope you tear your hair out, but in the best way possible.
> 
> Love, [Peace](https://www.instagram.com/hugsforkiki/).

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel the fire of my writing forges ;)


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